


i wanna be known by you

by brahnuh



Series: pen pals [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, M/M, Pen Pals, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-04-23 03:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahnuh/pseuds/brahnuh
Summary: If you don’t know who to write, we’ll assign you someone looking for a pen pal from home. Our men and women overseas appreciate letters from anyone!He pauses, rereading. It would have been nice to get a letter from home when he was stationed over there, unsure exactly when he’d get back. Time on base was filled with either high stress or high monotony, and the only way he found out what was going on back in the States was through the gossip of everyone else.Bucky accepts the flyer, folding it up and pocketing it for later.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At Ease](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557569) by [derekstilinski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski). 



> this is the first fic I've ever finished. the first long-form story, really, but this was one i was determined to reach the end, and i did! (also this is unbeta'd, just my own revising strategies, so if there are any mistakes that's uh on me)
> 
> please bear with me on some of the details. i really do my best not to trivialize experiences, and i want to treat everything as respectfully as i can, and i research, but naturally i'll probably get things wrong. some of the deeper military details are fudged. for the most part, though, i do my best!
> 
> i hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading ♥
> 
> title from "goner" by twenty one pilots.
> 
> UPDATE 9/13/19: i realized i was inspired way back in the day to add this to my to-write list by [At Ease by derekstilinski](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557569) so i've added that link! i love the idea of pen pals and ran with it my own way, but i wouldn't have written this at all were it not for that fic (which i love).

After Bucky’s honorable discharge from the Army, he struggled to adjust to civilian life. His friends — his _family_ , after everything they went through together — were still mostly overseas and he couldn’t bear the thought of them struggling out there without him. Being sidelined was incredibly difficult, especially knowing what life looks like over there, slogging through mud and sand and everything in between while just trying to survive.

He checked obituaries every day, communicated with whoever he could to find out about the Commandos, running himself ragged with worry and the stress of trying to be a person again instead of just a soldier. Outside of that, he didn’t do much talking.

He’s told to check out the VA meetings, so he pulled himself together one day — tossed his too-long hair up in a tiny ponytail, shoved a hat down over his eyes, tugged a jacket on that could hide the hole where his left arm used to be — and took the subway down there.

He sat in the back, not looking at anyone, but listening the whole time. Hearing other stories about time in the war made him ache for his men. There was something therapeutic in it, though, which he supposed was what it was for. He learned the name of the man leading the sessions — Sam Wilson, used to be pararescue — and decided to keep coming back.

 ✪✪✪

Bucky always sits in the same spot — fifth row, furthest to the right on the end. He never sits in the circle at the front of the room. He’s not ready for the attention yet. The regulars all know he’s there, though, and they exchange nods as they settle into their spots. Bucky started leaving the hat at home after a handful of visits, but he still hasn’t shown off that he’s missing an arm. Some of them have probably guessed — they were soldiers, after all, trained to be observant — but since he doesn’t speak, no one’s pressed him about it.

After today’s meeting, Sam hangs back, drifting toward where Bucky’s adjusting his jacket a little more carefully over his shoulders.

“Hey, man.” Bucky nods at him. He tends to communicate nonverbally these days. “I’ve noticed you returning to meetings. That’s good. Thought I’d introduce myself since I haven’t before — Sam Wilson.” Sam holds out his hand. Bucky’s proud of himself for only hesitating a moment before shaking it.

“Bucky Barnes.” His voice comes out hoarse from disuse. Sam gives him a warm smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m glad to have you with us.” Bucky nods again, but he can’t quite come up with a smile on his own. Sam doesn’t push. He just inclines his head in acknowledgement and moves on to check in with everyone else.

The next few weeks find Bucky sitting in the center aisle rather on the far side, but he still doesn’t move up from the fifth row, and doesn’t join the circle. Sam notices the change, though, and gives him an encouraging smile as he starts the first meeting with Bucky in the new spot. Some of the others smile at him too, like they’re seeing it as an improvement. Maybe it is.

He still won’t talk.

 ✪✪✪

“You’ve been going to the VA,” Natasha says one night when they’re both sitting on the couch. There’s a TV show neither of them much care about playing, but they’ve got a giant bowl of popcorn sitting on the cushions between them that’s been steadily depleting.

Bucky nods, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He thinks she’d probably benefit from going too, but he knows for a fact she would never open up — and besides, she’s still stuck in a war of her own to fight. Her job — some kind of freelance security gig, very secretive; Bucky’s not convinced she isn’t a spy — takes her all over the world. She’s only back because she’s got a few week’s leave before her next assignment.

“Sam’s group, right?” Clint asks as he throws himself onto the recliner at Bucky’s right, a slice of pizza in hand. Bucky nods again. “Sam’s a good guy. Ran into him at the VA a few times.”

Clint Barton is another honorable discharge — the same explosion that lost Bucky his arm lost Clint his upper-frequency hearing. Can’t have a guy on the field who can’t reliably cover your back when he can’t hear half the sounds around you, so they were both sent home. Neither of them had much of a home to begin with, so they found an apartment in Brooklyn and have been recuperating since.

Clint met Nat when he was working Covert Ops before the Army. They don’t really discuss what went down, but they’re a package deal, and Bucky’s grateful to have her around. Especially when she scolds Clint for not bringing a plate or a napkin with him and _does he plan to wipe his fingers on his shirt, or worse, the chair?_

Looking sufficiently chagrined, Clint hangs his head and gets up to go get a plate and some napkins from the kitchen. Bucky snickers.

“Bring the pizza back with you!” Natasha calls before turning back toward Bucky. “Anyway, the VA. Is that going well?”

Bucky shrugs. It certainly hasn’t hurt. Going to meetings has kickstarted the process of easing something inside of him now that he’s back home. He isn’t quite sure how to find the words to say that, though, so all that comes out is, “I think so.”

“Have you told them anything?” Bucky shakes his head. He doesn’t plan on sharing his experience for a while. Natasha looks like she might want to press on that a little, but Bucky is saved by Clint returning with the box of pizza and plates for everyone. He moves the popcorn bowl to the coffee table and takes its place on the couch between the others, pizza box on his lap. Bucky raises an eyebrow and Nat just rolls her eyes at him.

“I come with the pizza,” Clint says, taking a bite of his piece. His attention turns to the TV. “What are we watching?”

 ✪✪✪

Bucky arrives early to meetings, in part because that’s just how the subway schedule goes and in part because he likes to be able to watch as everyone comes in. Getting his arm blown off was bad enough, but since he was victim of an ambush when it happened, he keeps a watchful eye out for every person that walks through the doors.

Today, though, he gets a call from Natasha. She never calls unless it’s important, so he takes the call in the hallway just outside the room.

“Nat? What’s going on?”

“I’ve got intel on your boys.”

Bucky’s body sags with relief before going ramrod straight again, not knowing if this is good news or bad news. He steels himself and ignores the confusion over where she got the information from. Sometimes it’s best to just leave it and be grateful to have it at all. “What’s going on?”

“They Howling Commandos have seen better days, but they’re all alive. Their platoon has just made it out of the thick of things, though they’ve still got a ways to go before they’re in the clear. But I didn’t tell you that.”

Bucky leans against the wall, relief nearly knocking him down. He’s gone so long without knowing if they were alright his knees are weak knowing they’re alive. “Thank you. I owe you.”

“You already owe me.” Nat sounds like she’s smirking. “Now I’ve got real work to do.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you.”

“Not if I see you first.” And then she hangs up. Bucky pockets his phone and smiles to himself. His men — his _family_ — are alive. They may have finally made it out of the hell he led them to.

He’s still smiling when Sam approaches. Bucky’s used to Sam being the first arrival; it makes sense with him as a leader, and all. He gives Bucky a quizzical look as he comes closer.

“This is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” Sam says. “Good news?”

Bucky still can’t keep the smile off his face. “My squad is alive.”

“I take it you didn’t know anything about them after you left.” Bucky shakes his head. “I understand. Getting information on deployed friends is tough.”

“Been trying for a while,” Bucky admits. He’s riding so high he doesn’t notice this is the most he’s ever said to Sam.

Sam smiles at him, earnest and warm. “I’m happy for you. And for them. But that reminds me — I did come here for another reason.” He pulls out a blue sheet of paper. When he holds it out to Bucky, he sees it’s a flyer that reads: _PEN PAL PROGRAM: Write to a soldier!_

“I know you don’t like to talk,” Sam says, “so I thought I’d offer this as an option. You don’t have to share your story, but you’ll still have a way to speak. Maybe even write to your boys.”

Bucky accepts the flyer, looking it over. He wants to write to the Commandos. He just doesn’t know what he could say. They’ve all been through hell together, and now he’s not a part of that. Since he won’t be able to reach them while they’re on a mission, he doesn’t know if he wants to risk sending a letter and having it intercepted. He also isn’t really sure how to talk to them knowing they’re still stuck going through God knows what.

He thinks about telling Sam thanks but no thanks until he reads an option at the bottom: _If you don’t know who to write, we’ll assign you someone looking for a pen pal from home. Our men and women overseas appreciate letters from anyone!_

He pauses, rereading. It would have been nice to get a letter from home when he was stationed over there, unsure exactly when he’d get back. Time on base was filled with either high stress or high monotony, and the only way he found out what was going on back in the States was through the gossip of everyone else.

Bucky accepts the flyer, folding it up and pocketing it for later. Sam looks pleased. They both head inside to their respective spots for the meeting — Sam at the head and Bucky in the fifth row — but there’s a pep in Bucky’s step where there wasn’t before.

 ✪✪✪

He follows the link on the flyer and registers online when he gets home. It takes a few hours, but soon enough he finds out he’ll be sending a letter to Captain Steve Rogers, who also happens to hail from Brooklyn. He pulls out a piece of loose leaf and a pencil and sits down to write, until he realizes he has no idea what to say.

Bucky thinks. What would he have wanted to hear? He doesn’t have much up-to-date information, since he hasn’t really been out experiencing the world since he’s been back. He taps his fingers against the table, contemplating for a while. When he can’t come up with anything else, he glances down to what he’s written:

_Captain Rogers,_

Yeah. That’s it. Letting out an exasperated huff, Bucky tosses his pencil down and hunts for Clint. He doesn’t have the energy to talk to most people these days, but with Clint and Nat, it’s easier. He knows he doesn’t have to try as hard with them. Words come easier when he doesn’t have to think through them so much.

The other man is throwing darts at a dartboard they’ve set up in the living room. Clint hits the bullseye for what appears to be the fourth time and turns toward Bucky, delight at his own abilities morphing into a frown when he sees Bucky’s face.

“You okay, man?”

Bucky makes an irritated noise. “I can’t figure out what to write.”

“Like, in a journal? A novel?”

“A letter. To send overseas.” Bucky fishes in his pocket for the flyer and hands it to Clint, who reads it over in turn. Then he shrugs.

“Just introduce yourself. Do you know anything about this person?”

“He’s a captain. Originally from Brooklyn.”

“Perfect! Talk about pizza, or something. Tell him things you’d want to know about home.”

“It’s always pizza with you, isn’t it?” Bucky says. Clint grins. “But I don’t know anything about what’s going on here.”

“So find out,” Clint says. Like it’s that simple.

Bucky guesses it is, really. It’s been hard to adjust to civilian life. But he can look online, he supposes, learn some little tidbits that matter enough to share. He takes the flyer back to Clint and heads back to his room to research.

 ✪✪✪

_Captain Rogers,_

_My name is James, but most people call me Bucky. I’m writing to you through the veteran pen pal program — they gave me your name and rank, and let me know where you’re originally from. I think that makes things easy, ‘cause I’m from Brooklyn, too. Which area are you from? I’m Red Hook born and bred._

_Have you heard about Lucy’s Pizza getting turned into some hipster cafe? I was pretty shocked when I found out. That place is a Brooklyn staple. Some of the best pizza I ever had. I guess Lucy just couldn’t keep it on its feet anymore. Gotta go with the money, right? Still — makes me sad for everyone who will never know the joy of a gloriously over-cheesy pepperoni pizza. So much grease. It was amazing._

_Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t really share sad news. But this place really has turned into a hipster town. I was away for most of the last four years. A lot can change in that amount of time, I guess. I’ve only been back from deployment for a handful of months, though, so there’s still some adjusting to do._

_Anyway, it’s good to meet you, Captain. I hope everything on base is running smoothly._

_Sincerely,_

_Sergeant James Barnes_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! Chapter 2 coming soon! (especially since now that i've posted Chapter 1, i have to finish revising. it's like an accountability thing. right?)


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in a day! i said i was holding myself accountable, didn't i?
> 
> (this is kinda cheating, though. most of the revision starts around the beginning of the next chapter, so those might take a little longer.
> 
> as it stands, here is chapter two!)

Bucky does a good job of not dwelling on the letter for the next week or so. He knows it will be screened, and it’ll take a while to reach this Rogers guy when it has to travel across an ocean.

He does, however, dwell a little on if he should be doing this in the first place. It would’ve been nice to know what was going on in his hometown while he was stationed on the other side of the world, it’s true. But would he want to find out from a stranger? Captain Rogers did sign up for this, though, so he must have wanted _something_.

Thinking about it makes him sigh. It’s one letter, and it’s done. Sent off already. No sense fretting about it now.

 

And he doesn’t. At least, not until he gets home one night and Clint slides over an envelope addressed to Sergeant James Barnes with a return address for Captain Steve Rogers.

“Looks like your pen pal replied,” Clint says. Bucky rips the envelope open as he disappears toward his room, annoyed at the nerves fluttering in his chest.

 

_Sergeant Barnes,_

_Thank you for writing. I joined the pen pal program one night when I got a bit too homesick and have been hoping for a letter since — and how lucky for me you’re from Brooklyn too, huh? Just a couple neighborhoods over from me — I’m a Brooklyn Heights guy._

_I hadn’t heard about Lucy’s. That’s a real shame. My ma used to take me there when I was a kid. You could swim in the grease puddles on those pizzas. Guess the hipsters will have to do without. Although the guys make fun of me sometimes for acting like one myself, so maybe I’m part of the problem. I grew up there too, though, so you can bet I’m Brooklyn through and through._

_The news may be sad, but it’s from home —_ _really_ _home. Right in the heart of my town. So thanks for that. I’ll take any other information you got. The base isn’t seeing too much action outside the norm, but soldiers are coming back after dealing with worse and worse each day. I’m gearing up but I’m not sure what for._

_You said you were deployed — where, if you don’t mind me asking? Maybe we’ve got some friends in common._

_It’s nice to meet you too. And you can just call me Steve. I’ll keep calling you Sergeant Barnes ‘til I know your preference, but I gotta know how you get Bucky from James._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Steve Rogers_

 

Bucky smiles to himself. He likes this guy already (and not just because he loves Lucy’s Pizza). There’s something easy about the way his letter flows that makes Bucky think maybe he won’t struggle with writing as much as he’d originally feared.

He gets started on his response letter right away.

 

_Steve,_

_A hipster, huh? What makes people say that? Far be it from me to judge, but you don’t see many hipster guys in the army. You got a record collection? Thick-rimmed square glasses? Too many flannels?_

_I’ll try to find out more about home for you. I’ve been a little out of touch as of late. Coming home after a while overseas is kind of like trying to find your land legs again after a long trip at sea. I have to re-learn about everything. Guess we’ll learn about home in the present together._

_I do know that bakery off Court is still in business — my roommate brought back some cookies from there the other day. Bianchi Bakes. Figure if you liked Lucy’s you’ve definitely been there. I think it even predates my parents living here._

_I was deployed with the 107th Unit in the Middle East. My squad is called the Howling Commandos — maybe you’ve heard of them? We could get pretty rowdy. From what I understand, we gained a reputation. Gotta love ‘em._

_I guess if I’m calling you Steve, you should call me Bucky. It doesn’t actually come from James — my full name is James Buchanan Barnes. Didn’t want to go by James  when I was young so my ma started using Buchanan, but that was too long for a kid, so she called me Bucky. After that, so did most everyone. Well, aside from Natasha. She still calls me James. I think she’s the only one. She has a thing against calling me Bucky._

_You don’t have to thank me for writing. Soldier to soldier, right? You get a taste of home and I… well, I get to stay connected._

_Stay safe out there,_

_Bucky Barnes_

✪✪✪

The next week is a bad one. Someone has a bonfire on a roof nearby and the smell of smoke brings Bucky right back to the explosion, the pain of his arm getting blown off, the force sending him flying backward, landing heavily on the ground. He’s lucky his back didn’t break on impact. By the time he’s aware again, Clint is kneeling with him on the floor, repeating Bucky’s name until the fog clears in his head and he can hear it.

“Bucky. C’mon, come back to me, man. We’re in Brooklyn. We’re safe.” It doesn’t smell like fire anymore. Clint has fans blowing and the windows are closed and it seems like he even maybe sprayed some Febreeze or something to make it smell like _anything else_. Bucky blinks away the tears burning at his eyes and nods at his roommate, whose concerned gaze doesn’t leave even as Bucky comes into himself completely again. He’s sitting with his knees pulled to his chest in the corner of the living room. He realizes with no shortage of dismay that Clint’s hands are shaking, though he pays them no mind as he watches Bucky. Clearly Bucky got the worse end of this memory ambush, but that doesn’t mean Clint is handling it very well, either.

Bucky lets out a watery laugh he doesn’t really feel. “We’re a pair, huh?”

Clint just snorts, holding out a trembling hand to bring Bucky back to his feet. Bucky gives his hand a squeeze before he lets go. Clint doesn’t say anything, but the grateful look in his eyes is all Bucky needs.

✪✪✪

The lingering dread from the panic doesn’t leave until the end of the next day. Summer is winding down and people are celebrating by hosting get-togethers like the one from the night before, and Bucky could do without the flames. He’s on edge his whole way home from the VA as the sun edges its way toward the horizon.

They keep the windows closed all night.

The next day is better. Bucky takes it upon himself to do some grocery shopping while Clint goes to visit his brother upstate. Bucky always likes the routine of shopping for food; he knows what to get and exactly where to get it, and since he goes during the middle of the day on a weekday, there generally aren’t a lot of people around. It saves him from stares — whether pitying or sometimes fascinated, if it’s a child gaping at his empty left sleeve. He keeps his cap low on his eyebrows to shadow his face, but high enough to not restrict his periphery too much. He still doesn’t much like being in crowds, however small.

He’s proud of himself for fitting everything into the shopping bags he brought. He’s on the sidewalk, deliberating between hauling everything home on the subway or calling an Uber, when a car backfires.

This isn’t the first time he’s heard it since he’s been back. You’d think it wouldn’t be as common in the most densely populated areas of New York, what with all their foot traffic — shouldn’t there be less cars around here? — but it happens nonetheless.

He’s on the ground in seconds, groceries falling to the concrete beside him. His mind is no longer in New York; all he can think about are the Commandos, running in ahead of him while he sits helpless above and behind them as they’re ambushed on their ambush. Bucky tries to pick off the enemies as best he can from his position, but some of the other members of their squad go down. His heart is thudding in his chest as he fights to keep his body as still as he can, unable to take his eyes off the men that go down while Barton picks up his slack when he reloads.

He’s breathing hard, stuck staring at his men as they’re rushed, and then his rifle gets jammed and there’s an arm around his neck —  

“ _Barnes!_ ”

Bucky jolts back into himself, suddenly aware of the ache in his knees from how hard they hit the sidewalk. His body is trembling. Sam squats in front of him, not touching, but hands out like he’s about to. Bucky’s glad he didn’t; Sam may have wound up slammed into the ground if he had. Sam’s looking him over to make sure he’s present and Bucky can feel a bitter laugh bubbling up in his throat. He can’t go two days without something sending him hurtling back to combat.

“Where are you?” Sam asks, eyes clinical as he glances between Bucky’s.

“Sidewalk outside Trader Joe’s. Brooklyn.” Sam nods. He watches Bucky for another moment before straightening up, holding a hand out to Bucky, who lets Sam haul him to his feet. Sam grabs his groceries from the sidewalk before Bucky can, but instead of carrying them like Bucky’s worried he might — he’s missing an arm, not helpless — he just hands them over.

“You want a ride home?”

Bucky glances at Sam in surprise. This guy barely knows him. Bucky’s heard a lot about his story from the VA meetings and thinks he understands Sam a bit more for it, but he doesn’t know anything about Bucky. If he were smart, he wouldn’t invite Bucky into a small space with him — especially not now.

But Sam’s been dealing with men like Bucky for a while now, from what Bucky understands, so it’s probably safer than Bucky being around strangers. He swallows, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They pull up to Bucky’s apartment building just as Clint walks up. He frowns when he sees Bucky getting out without groceries — until Sam gets out to open the trunk and hand them over. Clint breaks into a smile when he sees Sam and comes over, although half his attention stays on Bucky, who tries to give him an “I’m doing okay” smile.

“Car backfire,” Bucky explains, and Clint’s face drops. He nods in understanding before drawing back a smile for Sam.

“Good to see you, man,” Sam says, holding the hand not covered in grocery bags toward Clint, who clasps it.

“You too. You want to come up? We’ve now got food.” Clint nods at the bags, releasing Sam’s hand to take them.

“The eggs may be broken,” Bucky tells him, voice coming out a little smaller than he’d intended. He clears his throat and Clint waves him off.

Sam smiles, trunk shutting with a _thunk_. “That’d be great, but I’ve actually got to get to another appointment. I did want to ask, though —” He turns toward Bucky. “You able to get a letter to anyone, Barnes?”

Bucky nods. “I did, actually. The program assigned me someone. Captain Rogers.”

Sam looks surprised for a moment. “Steve Rogers?” Bucky nods. Sam mutters, “Of course he joined the pen pal program,” before finally breaking out into a smile, this one spreading across his whole face. “Steve’s a good guy. I’ll bet he loves hearing from you.”

Bucky blinks, a little unsure about the encouragement, but he thinks he’s grateful nonetheless. He shrugs. “Hope it’s something, at least.”

Sam hands over the last of the groceries. “It will be, I can promise you that.”

✪✪✪

_Bucky,_

_I’m sorry this letter took so long to write — the action got a little too close for comfort. We’re all okay here, though maybe a bit overwhelmed. I think it’s more stress than anything else. We’re all on edge, as I’m sure you understand._

_I do know the Commandos! I fought with them a few months back, before I was brought back to base again. They’re good men. Does that mean you’re the illustrious Sergeant Barnes I heard about? They talked about you a lot. I think they miss you._

_I’m not really a hipster, I swear. I don’t have the flannels. I do wear glasses, though not the ones you’re thinking of. They’re wireframes. I maybe collect records._

_Okay, so maybe I’m a hipster. Don’t tell anyone._

_Wow, James Buchanan, huh? Your parents have a thing for obscure presidents? If they wanted to go that far, they should have named you Chester Arthur Barnes._ _No one’s_ _heard of him._

_Natasha sounds fierce. Is she a girlfriend? You don’t have to answer. It just seems like a girlfriend thing to do._

_How are you doing at home, by the way? I have friends who have gotten out of the service somehow or another. They talk about how difficult the adjustment period is. I can only imagine what that must be like. I hope the world isn’t treating you too unkindly._

_You know what’s far from unkind, though… the Bianchi bakery. I’m drooling just thinking about their tiramisu. I might have to stop by again next time I’m home. Good to know they’re still around. I’ve been gone a little under a year now and so much seems to change each time I come back._

_Thanks for sharing bits of Brooklyn with me._

_Talk soon,_

_Steve_


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: there's a semi-graphic depiction of violence in this one. the paragraph begins with "of course, he can't just feel good about it," and it is easily skippable. it really just briefly flashes back to the incident that sent bucky and clint home.

“Hey,” Clint begins around a mouthful of leftover lasagna Natasha made before she left for her mission the day before. He swallows before continuing, “What if I told you I know someone who can get you an arm?”

Bucky’s head whips up, brows knitting together in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Clint has shoved another pile of lasagna in his mouth. He talks anyway. “I mean, like, a prosthetic. So you can stop hiding it all the time.”

“I don’t need a prosthetic.” Bucky’s voice comes out more aggressive than he means it, but his arm — or lack thereof — is a touchy subject, and Clint is being annoyingly direct about it. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) Clint ignores his tone, rolling his eyes.

“ _Need_ one, no. But you still hate having one arm. This guy knows what he’s doing.” Clint stops, seeming to stop and think before he speaks. “Natasha recommended him,” he says after a moment.

Bucky groans. “Which means I have an appointment already.”

This, at least, has Clint looking chagrined, ducking his head. “I don’t know why she left me to tell you,” he mumbles. “But yeah. It’s on Friday. I’ve been told to take you.”

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Natasha sure has a way of getting what she wants without having to be there to see it through. Sure, Bucky could always not go, but —

“He’s really good, Bucky. I’ve seen some of his other projects. You know Colonel Rhodes, with his back injury?” Bucky nods. “This guy, Tony Stark, is the reason he can walk again. He created a system just for the Colonel to use. I really do think he can help you.”

If Bucky’s being honest with himself, he _really_ hates only having one arm. It hasn’t been all that long — he’s been without for maybe six months — but there’s something vulnerable about missing part of him and he can’t stand it. He still wakes up thinking he has both arms and flips out when he realizes his left is gone. All that remains is a shoulder.

He swallows both the lump in his throat and his pride. “Yeah, okay.”

✪✪✪

_Absolutely-a-hipster Steve,_

_Glad to hear you’re okay. None of the bases over there are in what you could call  ideal areas, so I understand the stress._

_I’ve included some pizzelles with this letter. They’re no tiramisu, but they’ve got that signature Bianchi flair I thought you’d appreciate. How’s that for bits of Brooklyn?_

_Home isn’t treating me that great, if I’m being honest. I can’t even catch a whiff of some teenagers’ bonfire without thinking of explosions. Certainly a long road, huh? Dropped my eggs on the sidewalk when a car backfired and couldn’t bring myself back to the present. I may be out of the thick of war, but the war definitely ain’t outta me._

_Don’t let the Commandos hear you telling me they’re saying nice things. It’ll ruin their image._

_(But thank you for sharing. It’s nice to know I’m still on their mind. If you do happen to see them again, tell them I miss them a whole hell of a lot, too.)_

_Natasha’s not a girlfriend, by the way. She came pretty close a long time ago, until we realized we were both too bullheaded to make it work as a couple. We’ve been thick as thieves for years, though. Besides, I think she and my roommate, Clint, have an unspoken thing neither of them are ballsy enough to admit. You got a lady waiting for you back here? Someone writing you letters doused in flowery perfume?_

_If your record collection is anything other than recent albums I may have to start calling you a grandpa instead,_

_Bucky_

_P.S. Chester Arthur? Really? I had to Google it just to know that guy even_ _was_ _a president._

✪✪✪

When the appointment comes around, Bucky is far from ready. He doesn’t know this guy or how he operates, just that he has a giant tower in the middle of New York City with his name slapped on the top and is apparently a mega-genius.

Clint sticks close by his left side as they enter the building, not quite touching but always solidly there. Having him protecting his weak side helps Bucky keep his breathing in check. What also helps is knowing the recommendation for Stark came from Natasha, and she’s nothing if not thorough in her investigations, so Bucky holds onto that as he clenches his fist so hard his nails draw blood in his palm.

They’re directed into an elevator that takes them up thirty floors before they step out into a lab more technologically advanced than anything Bucky has ever seen. There are robotic arms moving on their own, 3D holographic projections scattered about, and all sorts of other tech encircling a frazzled-looking man in the middle of the room. His dark hair is sticking up and there are bags under his eyes, but he adjusts the projections with authority. Bucky thinks he’s already got a lot of respect for this guy when he says, “For Christ’s sake, dummy, how many times do I have to tell you to _stop_ prodding me with the tools? I’ll ask you for what I need.” The man’s eyes land on Bucky and Clint. He shoves a robotic arm out of the way — and it actually looks _hurt_ by the gesture — as he comes closer.

“Tony Stark, I take it?” Clint asks from next to Bucky.

“You’re that scary redhead woman’s friends,” the man says, ignoring and confirming Clint’s statement all at once. He’s smaller than he looked a moment ago, Bucky notices when he gets closer. Bucky and Clint both have a few inches on him, but somehow his personality fills the room so much Bucky can almost physically feel his presence. He jabs a stylus in Bucky’s direction. “You need an arm.” He looks at Clint. Frowns. “Why are you here?”

Clint shrugs. “Moral support?”

“Whatever. Come with me — what’s your name again?”

“Barnes,” Bucky says. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Alright, Barnes. Let’s work on making you a robo-arm.”

Bucky cuts Clint a sharp glance. Clint blinks, giving him an _I have no idea_ look. He does have the decency to at least look a little abashed about bringing him here, though.

Bucky follows Tony to the other side of the room to a workstation covered in tools. Tony looks down at it and makes an annoyed noise. “Dummy,” he calls, slowly turning to face the robot he shoved earlier. “Didn’t I tell you to tidy this up?” The robot folds in on itself, almost as though hanging its head, and it seems to skulk as it extends toward the worktable. Tony slaps it away. “Too late now. Clean later.”

“You always call your robot stupid?” Clint asks, strolling leisurely around the space and taking everything in the way a kid might look at fish in an aquarium. Said robot whips around and nearly smacks into Clint’s face, but he ducks just in time.

“That’s his name,” Tony tells him, flicking both hands toward designs on flat screens in front of the worktable that then become 3D and enlarged in front of them. “Dum-E. D-U-M dash E. I never fully perfected his code and I need someone to yell at.” Bucky doesn’t point out Dum-E can’t yell back. He gets it, in a crazed kind of way. It’s better than yelling at a person, anyway. Clint just shrugs and goes back to looking around.

Tony does some kind of complicated hand gesture and extracts a life-sized projection of what appears to be a metal arm. He spins it around in front of him a few times, searching for details Bucky can’t even begin to understand, until he adjusts it and gives it a push in Bucky’s direction. It aligns itself to what remains of Bucky’s left arm. Or, at least, it tries to. Tony huffs.

“Take your jacket off.” He sounds impatient, like Bucky should have known to do this already. Bucky grits his teeth, aware of the careful eye Clint’s keeping on him, and takes the jacket off, tossing it onto the worktable. Tony snaps his fingers at Dum-E, who picks it up and lays it on another table with surprisingly gentle precision.

This time when Tony moves his hands the projected arm aligns itself perfectly to Bucky. Its dimensions are exactly right and when Bucky glances down to see an arm at his side again, even a blue holographic one, his chest constricts. It makes him think maybe, just maybe, he might get to feel a little more whole again.

Of course, he can’t just feel good about it — because as soon as he thinks about his arm, he remembers extending it toward the kid they were trying to rescue, couldn’t have been more than twenty, and then the blast and heat unlike anything he’d ever felt and the kid wasn’t there anymore, Bucky was flat on his back, and his arm was gone. Clint was just behind him to the side, curling in on himself, hands pressed to his ears. Bucky took one look at the puddle of blood where his left arm used to be and promptly passed out.

“Barnes?” Tony is asking, and Bucky’s trying to blink the black dots out of his eyes. Tony peeks over Clint’s shoulder, while Clint stands in front of Bucky, a hand extended to grip him if necessary. This flashback isn’t the worst it could have been; there have been times Clint has had to fight to bring him back.

Neither one of them handled warfare particularly well, but Bucky’s having a real hell of a time getting used to civilian life again.

To his annoyance, there are tears burning his eyes. Part of it, he supposes, is embarrassment — but mostly it’s just stress. Clint’s gaze bores into his. Gone is the relaxed man who wandered carelessly throughout the lab. Clint’s back is straight, concern coloring his features. “Are you good to keep going?” he asks. Bucky swallows. Blinks away the last of the grey in his vision. He meets Clint’s gaze and nods.

 

The rest of the appointment goes by smoothly. Bucky knows it’ll be hard to see an arm, so he looks at the lab instead, as Tony asks him a barrage of questions to see the best way to create his new limb.

It strikes Bucky, as he’s tugging his jacket back on, that he has no idea how this is going to be financed. He doesn’t think his army health insurance will cover this — especially since, strictly speaking, this isn’t actually medical.

When he vocalizes this opinion, Tony waves him off. “I don’t need your money. This is a new project. An experiment, if you will. People don’t typically pay to be experiments.”

Calling him an experiment isn’t exactly a vote of confidence, but from the questions Tony was asking throughout the afternoon, Bucky has a surprising amount of faith in the result. He nods, uncomfortable as it makes him to know he’s getting this for free.

“Bruce will help me with the parts that make it human-ready over the weekend. The arm is yours on Monday; come back at 2 for the procedure,” Tony says, already turning back toward his robots. Bucky gapes at him.

“Monday?” he repeats, dumbstruck. Then, when the rest of what Tony says hits him, his eyes widen and he grips at the stool for support, caught in a rush of images of poking and prodding and doctors trying to find a way to put him back together again. He blinks rapidly, trying to come back to himself before he can get sucked into his memories.

Thankfully, Clint is there to save him, as per usual. “What kind of procedure are we talking?”

“It’s a surgery that’s not a surgery,” Tony tells them unhelpfully. Bucky tries to muster up a glare but doesn’t get very far, since he’s still struggling to regulate his breathing again. When he catches Tony’s eye, though, there’s a deeper understanding there than Bucky originally gave him credit for, and he relents in his attempts at glaring. “We have to attach the arm and connect it in a way that will communicate with the rest of you. Don’t want the arm moving on its own, don’t want it moving not at all.”

Bucky’s got his jaw clenched, fingers digging into the stool, but he manages to nod. Tony holds his gaze for a moment, like he's checking for authentic confirmation, and then the depth in his eyes vanishes and he turns back toward his tech.

“Two PM on Monday,” Tony calls as he starts back into his ring of projections. “Now go on. Out of my lab. I have things to do that I don’t need you distracting me for.”

✪✪✪

_Chester Arthur Barnes,_

_The pizzelles were delicious. I had forgotten how much I missed real sugar. Had to hand out a few to some other guys to keep them off my case, but the rest I got to enjoy. I’m saving some to savor later on._

_I’m sorry you’re struggling. Civilian life is never something I feel like I’m able to fully fall back into when I’m home, either. I hope things get easier soon. If you want to, you can just send me the latest headlines you find about the goings-on around there. We can figure it out from Internet stories together._

_I guess I have to tell you my records are definitely early-20th-century jazz now, don’t I? But I’m not a grandpa. I’m 25. I’d like to think that puts me closer to hipster than old man. Even though at this point I’m not sure which people think is worse to be. I’ve got 21st century values, if it helps._

_I don’t have a lady waiting back home. Or a lad, for that matter. My last — and, well, only significant — lady, Peggy,  and I parted ways as friends. It was better that way, I think. Pretty rough at the time, though. I really loved her, and she loved me too. Things just got too hard when she had to move back to England. We write sometimes, but not the way you mean._

_Maybe you should give Natasha and Clint the nudge they need to figure themselves out. People should form relationships in their own time, but sometimes all it takes is an extra push._

_I wouldn’t mind other Italian goodies,_

_Definitely-Not-A-Grandpa Steve_

_P.S. I can name a ridiculous amount of presidents. I was bored a lot as a kid. Spending most of your time sick and alone will do that to you, I guess._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to figure out how bucky's arm would work, right, so i was looking into robotic prosthetics and then what i came up with was "there's some comic book fuckery going on with bucky's arm that i can't even begin to understand or explain" so bear with me on this one as i fake-science and vaguely-explain my way through!
> 
> also i don't think the chapters will all be about 2400 words long, but so far the sections have lent themselves to consistency, so i'll take it!
> 
> thanks for reading. ♥


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am tired and i've been revising this chapter for what feels like forever and i STILL kept making changes so i apologize for any mistakes (or crappy writing)! after spending a while on something sometimes you reach a point where it probably won't get any better if you keep working on it right then, and i really wanted to post it today if i could.
> 
> WARNING: lowkey graphic memory flashes in the paragraph beginning with "He blanches when he sees..." totally skippable.

“Steve thinks you should get your shit together and tell Natasha you like her,” Bucky tells Clint. They’re sitting on the fire escape watching the sun go down on Sunday evening. Clint makes a face.

“Maybe Steve should mind his own business,” he says, but there’s not a whole lot of heat in it. He shifts so he’s facing Bucky. “Why does Steve know about that, anyway?”

“So you admit there’s something to know about?” Clint shoves him. Bucky tilts precariously backward but manages to keep himself upright. “Unfair. You’ve got a two-handed advantage.”

Clint shoves him again, and Bucky just laughs. He’s glad there are no bonfires tonight.

After a few beats of comfortable silence, Clint speaks again. It’s quiet, even in the stillness of the evening. “I don’t know if she’d want me.”

Bucky can’t help but snort. The sharp look Clint shoots him makes him feel a little bad, but he reaches over to pat him on the knee. “Clinton,” Bucky says, schooling his face into a serious expression. “I know Nat is hard to read, but saying that is just you being dense.” Clint still doesn’t look convinced. “She’s crazy about you, man.”

“Has she told you this?”

“She doesn’t have to. I know it about her the same way I know it about you. She’s just more subtle about it. Your heart eyes, on the other hand, I can see from the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge.”

There’s a spark of hope on Clint’s face. Bucky can see it flicker as Clint fights to keep it from igniting. “Why hasn’t she said something?”

“When has Natasha ever opened up about anything?”

“Fair point.”

The silence draws itself out again. Sirens wail in the distance. Someone’s playing music a few blocks over. The breeze is getting colder when Clint says, “You never told me why Steve knows about Natasha and me.”

Bucky shrugs, eyes roaming over the clouds as the colors blur between pink and orange and purple. “We were talking about significant others.”

He can feel Clint’s eyebrow raise even before he sees it. “Things getting flirty in these letters?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Just gettin’ to know each other, is all.”

Clint watches him, still doing that stupid eyebrow thing. He relents when Bucky stares him down.

“As long as you’re not spraying your cologne on them or something.” Bucky snorts. “But if he’s getting to know you, you should probably tell him you’re turning into a cyborg tomorrow.”

✪✪✪

Bucky expects to be nervous going back to Stark Tower— he’s getting a limb attached, for God’s sake— but he hadn’t expected it to be this tough on his brain. Part of him is nearly giddy at the prospect of having a left arm again, while another is warring with that one, arguing he should get used to life without and wasn’t he making strides as an amputee? Not to mention how little he wants to deal with doctors after the ordeal he went through to stay alive post-explosion.

Suffice it to say he didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.

Clint sticks close by his side the whole way over, and the whole trek inside and up to Stark’s lab. If Bucky wasn’t so nervous, he’d maybe call Clint out for hovering. As it is, his hand is shaking, body on the verge of a personal earthquake he wishes he could get rid of.

When they reach the lab Tony’s already tinkering with something. There’s another man Bucky doesn’t recognize, but he spots them right away and elbows Tony to point out their arrival, giving them a warm smile. Tony’s head jerks up. His expression reminds Bucky of one of those kids who wins a stuffed animal at the carnival.

“Barnes! I hope you’re prepared to become a cyborg.”

“Told you,” Clint mutters from beside him. If Bucky weren’t so wound up he’d roll his eyes. Instead he just nods, unable to even form a tight smile. The unknown man approaches, dressed in a button-down and slacks. He looks far more professional than Tony.

“I’m Dr. Bruce Banner,” he says, holding a hand out toward Bucky. Bucky shakes it. “I’m helping out with making sure the arm works for you, not just on its own.” He shoots Tony a look, somewhere caught between fond and resigned, and Bucky thinks he likes this guy.

A woman breezes past them then, the only one in a lab coat, and extends a hand toward Bucky as well. “Hello, Sergeant Barnes. My name is Dr. Helen Cho. I’ll be working with these two” — she gestures toward Banner and Stark — “to help connect the arm to your muscular and nervous systems.”

“Yeah, yeah, teamwork makes the dream work and all that garbage,” Tony says, coming forward. He has the good sense not to drag Bucky physically, but it’s a near thing. “On the bed, Barnes.”

Bucky stares at what looks like a bed stolen from a hospital and shoved into the lab. It’s positioned at a 90-degree angle so he’ll at least be upright in it and there are a few medical machines positioned nearby.

He blanches when he sees, his mind shooting back to military hospitals, covered in blood, passing in and out of consciousness — doctors speaking quickly, constant beeping muffled in his ears, men barking orders at each other — his left arm is gone, all he can see is blood, _where is Barton,_ _where is his squad_ —

Dr. Banner speaks up, which is enough for Bucky’s eyes to snap back into focus on him, and offers Bucky a kind smile. “We’ll just be monitoring your vital signs while we work. Nothing too intrusive, I promise. You’ll always be able to tell us to stop if you need us to.”

Clint squeezes Bucky’s shoulder — the left one, he realizes with a twist of irony — reassuringly.

Bucky takes a breath so deep he can feel it all the way through his body. Then he nods.

✪✪✪

_Grandpappy Steven,_

_Next thing I know you’re gonna tell me you wear khakis for fun. I’m 26 and I haven’t given up on modernity yet. You can still save yourself._

_Clint told me I should let you know I’m a cyborg now. Natasha, in her infinite wisdom and ability to see through bullshit like no one I’ve ever known, saw how much I was struggling with only one arm — that’s the reason I’m home, by the way; accident overseas — and made me an appointment with a guy I haven’t yet ruled out as a mad scientist (well, engineer, really). He gave me a metal arm. I gotta tell you, Steve, this thing is kinda miraculous. We’re still working out the kinks but for all intents and purposes I have my arm back._

_Cool as it is, though, I can’t figure out if having a cybernetic arm makes me feel safer back home or more scared about what people will think when they see me. I know I don’t have to fight anymore, but this thing I’ve got on my body now sure feels like a weapon. I don’t want to scare anybody anymore. I don’t want to hurt anybody anymore._

_It was bad enough to receive constant pitying stares when I was just an amputee. What will people see me as now?_

_I like the idea of having an arm back. I do. But still I feel like it’s not_ _my_ _arm. It’s attached to me, and it moves like my arm did, but it’s also made of silver plates and I have to get used to walking with an even weight on both sides of my shoulders again, which is a pretty weird problem to have. My back is really sore. Haven’t been sore like this since training. I guess what it all comes down to is just like everything else to do with coming home: it’s a process._

_In other news, I tried to find some Brooklyn headlines for you. None of them were very satisfying — or particularly happy, really. Guess I’ll have to do some more digging on my own._

_I told Clint he should tell Nat how he feels, by the way. I think that maybe, just maybe, the push might be what they needed. They’ll have to thank you at the wedding. And me, of course._

_As a thank you, I’ve sent some cannolis. You’ll have to stuff them yourself, but all the ingredients are there. Maybe you won’t have to share them this time around._

_Possibly becoming Robocop,_

_Bucky_

_P.S. Sick and alone? That doesn’t sound like a fun childhood. I hope you had hobbies more fun than learning about every president_.

✪✪✪

After the procedure, Dr. Banner let him know to plan for physical therapy in addition to technological tuneups. Bucky fidgets when he thinks about having more unfamiliar hands on his body but Dr. Banner assures him there will only be himself, Bucky, and Tony at the appointments, and they’ll be in the Friday time frame he first visited Tony during to keep them consistent. Dr. Cho can come when necessary for Bucky’s health, but they’re hoping everything will be stable enough to have her stay in her own lab — and if she did her job well enough, it will be. (She definitely did, she assured him, and based on what he’s seen so far, Bucky’s inclined to believe her.)

The arm works pretty spectacularly from the start. Bucky nearly cries when he reaches up to scratch his nose with his left hand and is able to. Clint kindly looks away while he blinks back tears.

It also requires a lot of work to get used to. He stumbles as he walks because he’s gone for over half a year compensating for the missing weight on his left side. When he’s alone Bucky holds both arms out to the sides and tries to walk in a straight line in his room to get his balance back. It’s frustrating when he keeps listing to the side, but he tries to tell himself the work will be worth it.

On top of having to readjust to life with two arms, Bucky now also has to slot PT into his routine. Having to remake a pattern he’d finally settled into is already taking a mental toll; he hardly has the energy to plan around his appointments even though he knows they’ll have to become part of his schedule. The idea of changing things up again is a tough one to swallow, even though he knows he has to. Necessity doesn’t make it easier.

Clint comes with him to Stark Tower the following Friday no questions asked. Bucky isn’t sure how to thank him for sticking around, especially when he keeps close as they walk in, Bucky practically trembling once again. Having been here a few times before, he’d hoped to feel better about it, but since each visit brings new challenges he hasn’t yet reached a point of comfort.

“They won’t do anything you don’t want them to,” Clint reminds him, a reassuring presence at Bucky’s side. Bucky nods but it’s stiff, his body coiled tight enough to snap.

When they reach Stark’s lab, Bucky has to fight to get his legs to work. The hospital bed and machines in the middle of the room are blessedly gone, replaced by the stool Bucky sat on during his first visit.

Dr. Banner spots them first again, face breaking out into a smile. He approaches and shakes each of their hands. “Clint, Bucky. How’s the arm treating you?”

“It works really well,” Bucky tells him honestly. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“Of course it is; I made it,” Tony butts in from one of his workbenches nearby. “I already have ideas on how to upgrade it.”

“Let’s just get it comfortable before we start adding unnecessary features, yeah?” Dr. Banner says, gesturing Bucky toward the stool. Tony scoffs but doesn’t retort, scampering toward where he’s got a rolling cart full of tools Bucky doesn’t recognize and pushing it toward them.

“Get comfy, Terminator,” Tony begins when he reaches Bucky, catching Bucky’s eye for permission before grabbing his arm and positioning it the way he wants. “I’m gonna open this thing up and if you move one of us is gonna get zapped.”

Bucky sits sniper still as Tony messes around in his arm, yammering on about mundane things Bucky tunes out like white noise. He focuses instead on the sensation, the gentle pressure he feels in the arm and the faint tug against his shoulder blade.

Tony’s done before he knows it, and then Bucky’s arm snaps closed and he can tell it’s moving easier as he flexes it, rolling his shoulder and clenching and unclenching his metal fist. Tony’s chest puffs up and a satisfied smirk takes over his features as he watches Bucky test out the adjustments.

As he opens his mouth to speak, however, Dr. Banner swoops in to save Bucky from whatever obnoxious thing Tony had been planning to say. He winks at Bucky as he plants himself where Tony was moments before.

“Feel good?” Dr Banner asks. Bucky nods. “Good. I’m going to start you with some stretches today that you can do at home to get your body used to a counterweight on your left side again. It should help with any tightness in your back and neck.”

They go through a few techniques Bucky knows from stretching out his muscles in the army, and a few he’s never heard of before. By the time it’s over Bucky feels looser than he has in a while and has finally managed to relax. Dr. Banner didn’t touch him at all during the whole appointment, just instructed and directed, and Bucky’s grateful.

Bucky smiles as he hops off the stool, extending a hand to shake. “Thank you, Dr. Banner. You’ve helped already.”

Dr. Banner’s return shake is sturdy but gentle, and his smile is warm and genuine. “The discomfort should improve if you keep up the stretches. We’ll work on some other types of exercises next week. Oh,” he adds, “and please, call me Bruce. ‘Dr. Banner’ makes me seem so distant.”

Bucky smiles again. “You got it. See you next week, Bruce, Tony.”

“Same time, same place!” Tony calls from where he’s been soldering something on the other end of the lab. Bucky rolls his eyes, falling into step beside Clint as the other man waves and walks out the door.

✪✪✪

_Hopefully a better Robocop remake,_

_The cannolis brought me right back to my childhood (which I did spend with more hobbies than studying American history, thank you; I did a lot of drawing) when my ma would surprise me with them at home. She was a nurse, so I didn’t see her a lot. She tried to make those moments special. Often with cannolis._

_Good on you for nudging Clint in the right direction. I’ll look forward to my wedding invitation and a nod in the toast. I hope it’s just funny enough to be tacky and just cheesy enough to make everyone groan._

_Thanks for the warning about your new cyborg status. I’ll have to keep a careful watch for any changes in your letters now that you’re part robot. Hope that doesn’t mean you’ll join their side if there’s ever an uprising. The humans need you!_

_But seriously — is it weird part of me is proud of you for taking a step like that? Maybe it’s because I understand how hard it is to try and live out normal life. A metal arm specifically may not be in everyone’s vision of what “normal” means, but it could be for you — especially if it helps you adjust._

_I know you said it’s tough because the arm could be seen as a weapon, but I think if you don’t see it or use it that way, people will understand. If they don’t, don’t worry about them. They aren’t worth your time or energy devoted to thinking about them anyway._

_Sorry. Was that too much? My squad gets on me sometimes for being what they say is overly sincere. I mean it, though._

_By the way — I recently spoke to a friend back in New York who said video chatting can help soldiers form a stronger connection to home. If you’re interested, maybe we can talk? I can see just how far into cyborg status you’ve gone, and you can tell me about what you’ve seen in this new version of our town. (Hopefully without the sad headlines.)_

_What would you say to two weeks from Saturday, if you’re interested? I’ve got the evenings free unless something unexpected happens, so if you’ve got time, I can chat any time after 6. My Skype username is CaptainAmerica. (It’s a nickname. I didn’t choose it.)_

_Talk (literally?) soon,_

_Steve_

_P.S. I have no beef with khakis. But I don’t wear them._

  
✪✪✪

_Captain America,_

_I’ll show you my arm if you show me your art._

_Saturday at 6:30pm your time._

_See you then._

_Your resident robot liaison,_

_Winter_Soldier_

_P.S. Thank God. You’ve still got some redeeming qualities. We’ll save you from your okayness with khakis._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh look at that! they gonna see each other's FACES! things are SHIFTING! what will their DYNAMIC BE?
> 
> am i doing end notes right?
> 
> it's late. i'm sorry for this. (but thank you for reading!!)


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Video Chat Time!! i really hope you enjoy!

Bucky isn’t freaking out about Skyping with Steve. He’s not. Even though throughout his weekly checkup with Tony he fidgets, knee bobbing nonstop.

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to short-circuit one of these wires. Since it’s connected to your nervous system, you’re going to feel it electrocute you. That’s not something you want,” Tony tells him around the screwdriver between his teeth. Bucky forces himself to still, but his head is still stuck on the next morning.

In less than twenty-four hours, he’ll see Steve. He doesn’t know what to make of that yet. He thinks they’re more than acquaintances at this point, and there’s been some light teasing, but does that make them friends? Besides, although Bucky’s been steadily getting better at talking to people again, it’s still way easier to write everything down. Especially when he knows Steve is so far away. The safety net of time and distance is disappearing now and his mind keeps coming back to the trouble that could bring.

Okay, so maybe he’s freaking out a little.

“Hey, Barnes? Inspector Gadget? You with me?”

Bucky blinks himself back into reality. At least this loss of touch wasn’t a war flashback. Clint’s always around at these appointments to help bring him back, but Bucky feels bad about the time it takes away from whatever else Tony gets up to, and the feeling that sometimes Clint’s more his babysitter than anything else. Tony never comments, though, just waits it out and then moves on, which is probably the most mature thing Bucky’s ever seen him do.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Just thinking.”

“I can tell. Think any harder and steam’ll come out of your ears.”

Bucky snorts, but does his best to stay focused on what Tony does, and what he says as he does it.  

The arm will stop needing weekly adjustments soon; they’re making good progress on its functionality. Bucky also keeps trying to pay for it, and every time Tony waves him off.

“Accept the gift, Barnes. Try to pay me again and next time you come here it’ll be Dum-E doing the work on you.”

Bucky holds his hands (hands!) up in surrender, hopping off the stool and flexing his arm the way he always does to see if he can feel a difference. Today’s adjustment smooths out how it feels when he bends and straightens his fingers. He opens and closes his hand as he makes his way to the physical therapy corner he and Bruce set up a few weeks prior. They figured it’d be smart to allow for enough room to move without risk of bodily harm from one of Tony’s many dangerous toys.

Bruce leads him through some yoga stretches to work on his balance. Clint joins in because he’s always liked yoga, and it’s not like Bucky minds. (Thinking about two veterans warrior-posing in Tony Stark’s lab _does_ make Bucky want to laugh as he works on holding himself steady, though.)

Any time Bruce catches him starting to drift throughout their session he manages to snap Bucky back to the present, which he’s gotten good at surprisingly quick during the short time they’ve been working together. The yoga does manage to calm Bucky’s racing heart, though, and he can tell Clint is also more relaxed by the end. He thanks Bruce earnestly as he and Clint head toward the door.

Before they’re fully out of the lab, Bucky turns back around to call, “Until next week, Stark,” and tosses back a mock salute.

“I’m counting down the minutes,” comes Tony’s response. “Next time, though, take a chill pill or something so I don’t electrocute you while you’re fidgeting.”

✪✪✪

The next morning, Bucky realizes he never set an alarm to Skype with Steve when he jolts awake to see 8:23am on his alarm clock —  6:23pm in Steve’s timezone. Bucky’s got seven minutes to pull himself together enough hold a coherent conversation with a man he’s only ever written to.

He swears and tugs a shirt on, trying to tame his bedhead into something mostly presentable. He brushes his teeth because it makes him feel more put-together and splashes cold water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up.

He manages to make it back to tug on a sweatshirt and boot up his laptop at 8:29, and has barely opened the Skype app and shoved earbuds in his ears when it starts to ring. _Incoming Video Call from CaptainAmerica_.

Bucky takes a second to breathe, center himself, and then he presses ACCEPT with a nervous smile playing at his lips.

The video is blurry at first as their connections fight to work together, but Steve is unmistakably military, from the tan undershirt stretching across broad shoulders to his posture to the close-cropped blond hair.

Then the picture clears, and Bucky’s mouth goes dry. Steve’s got what Bucky would call a heroic jawline, some of the prettiest blue eyes Bucky’s ever seen, and a smile on his face warm enough to make something in Bucky’s stomach flutter.

Steve Rogers is _hot_.

Bucky really wishes he hadn’t forgotten to set his alarm.

He swallows and tries to regain a sense of composure, but before he can say anything, Steve says, “Winter Soldier, huh?”

Bucky lets out a surprised laugh, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “A nickname. I think it might be a little cooler than Captain America, though.” His voice is rough from sleep and he tries to quietly clear his throat to make it less obvious he just leapt out of bed. At least Steve can’t see his pajama pants. “Where’d that come from, anyway?”

Steve’s cheeks color the slightest bit. “I get kind of heated about things I care about. Often to do with politics. I was drunkenly ranting one night and somebody started using the name. Gave me a slogan, too.” Bucky raises an eyebrow, intrigued. Steve looks kind of embarrassed as he recites, “‘Standing for Truth, Justice, and the American Way.’”

Bucky full-on cackles at this, head thrown back. “Somehow, from everything I’ve heard from you, I’m not surprised.”

Steve shakes his head, but he’s laughing a little too. As Bucky shoves hair he probably should have brushed out of his face, Steve’s expression goes quizzical. “Did you just wake up?” he asks.

“No,” Bucky lies, cursing his bedhead and sleep voice for giving him away.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think about what time it would be over there — it’s not too early, is it? I probably should have checked. I’m free all evening. I totally could have let you sleep.”

“Steve, relax. It’s eight thirty in the morning. A perfectly reasonable hour.” He pauses. Amends to, “Well, mostly reasonable. It is Saturday,” just to give Steve shit.

Steve makes a pained face. “I’m sorry,” he says, earnest. Bucky just waves him off.

“It’s fine! Better to get myself out of bed early. More time in the day then, right?” Steve still doesn’t look fully okay with it, but he lets it drop.

Of course, that’s when Bucky finds he doesn’t know what to say. They’ve been talking for months now, exchanging letters back and forth, but there had always been time to think about what to write. Now, having to deal with immediate reactions, he realizes he doesn’t know where to begin.

“Bucky?” Steve says for what Bucky realizes is the second time. A voice in the back of Bucky’s mind unhelpfully lets him know he likes the way his name sounds on Steve’s lips.

Bucky shakes his head a little, tugging himself out of his thoughts to see Steve watching him, brow furrowed slightly in concern. He gives a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says. “Lost in my own head.” Steve’s features smooth out and he smiles in return.

“I know how that goes.” There’s only a brief pause before Steve says, “So, you’re part robot now, huh?”

Things flow easier from there. Bucky launches into talking about Stark and his lab and trying to make the arm better, how it’s really a prototype but they’re working together to make it the best it can be for him — and then maybe start mass-producing them for other veterans in similar situations, something Bruce and Tony had brought up at last week’s appointment. He mentions how it’s taking some physical therapy to get him where he needs to be, but it just might work well enough to start helping others. Steve seems genuinely interested, which doesn’t help that fluttering in Bucky’s chest.

Eventually, Steve mentions he’d love to see it some time, if Bucky’s comfortable with it at any point, and it doesn’t matter when that is (if at all) because Steve can kind of see it every so often as Bucky’s hand moves and he knows it’s still new.

Bucky freezes up. Talking about the arm is fine; he can discuss it as a connection to Stark, something detached from himself. Putting it on display is something totally different — he hasn’t even shown it to Natasha in person yet, though he did send her photos after his first appointment. Bucky normally hides it with a glove or in his pocket when he goes outside. He only keeps his arm out at home because Clint was with him when he got it, and he knows Clint’s more likely to judge him harshly for his taste in movies than his cybernetic prosthesis.

He still hasn’t quite overcome the feeling of it being a weapon. He knows the arm is stronger than a human’s; it was an inevitable side effect, Tony told him, but probably works to his advantage if he wanted to feel safer. No one will mess with a guy with a metal arm, right?

It just doesn’t help the blurring of lines between living as a civilian and living as a soldier.

He keeps revisiting Steve’s words about intentions, but still — he’s not a soldier anymore, and he has no desire to go back into the fight; nor does he want to make people think he’s willing to. Definitely not an active-duty soldier like Steve who knows how awful things can get.

Bucky takes a moment to breathe deep, determinedly not looking at Steve’s pixelated look of concern. He reminds himself he’s in control here, and the arm really is an incredible piece of technology that’s been engineered specifically to help him. Some part of him deep down does want to show it off, and he did (stupidly) write that he would.

This is fine. He can always cover it up again. It’s not like Steve’s here to pressure him, anyway.

Bucky exhales before nodding, pulling his sweatshirt up over his head to reveal his left arm. He holds it up so it’s visible elbow to fingertips in the webcam, clenching and unclenching his fist, twisting his arm around. Sunlight glints off the metal plates, nearly blinding him, but it’s worth it for the awestruck look on Steve’s face.

“Wow,” Steve breathes. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bucky fights to keep his voice light. “Me neither. It’s definitely some sci-fi shit.”

Steve laughs. “That it is. It’s amazing you can move it so fluidly. I’m happy for you, Buck. That’s a huge deal.”

Bucky feels his face heat up and hopes it isn’t too obvious in the morning light. He rubs a hand — the flesh one — along the back of his neck.  “Thanks. I’m pretty lucky to have it.” Steve smiles. Bucky steadies his voice as he adds, “Hey — you owe me a look at your drawings, Rogers. Arm for art, that was the deal.”

Steve ducks his head, shyness creeping up. Bucky does not find it adorable. At all. Especially on a man as large as Steve appears to be.

Steve rustles something around below his webcam before holding up a sketchbook up for Bucky to see. It’s a little blurry, but the subject is instantly recognizable.

“That’s Brooklyn,” Bucky says, eyes widening because _damn_ this man can draw. Even in black and white, the character of the city is clear. He can tell Steve put a lot of love into his recreation. “Holy shit, Steve, that’s incredible. Makin’ me homesick and I’m here.”

When Steve puts the sketchbook down his cheeks are pink enough for Bucky to notice. “Thank you. I, uh. I drew it after I got your first letter.” Are his cheeks getting redder? Bucky breaks out into a grin, allowing himself to loosen up a little even though he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants to cover his arm up again.

“Happy to have been so inspiring. After this, you gonna draw me?”

“Do you want me to?”

The question catches Bucky off guard. He blinks, trying to ignore how the thought of Steve drawing him makes him feel, but Steve speaks again in a rush. “Or not, it’s okay, that’s maybe weird of me to say —”

“I’d really like that,” Bucky finds himself saying with a smile. “Never had anyone draw me before.”

Steve’s face is still red but he seems to relax a little. He smiles back. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? Am I too pretty not to draw?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile remains. “Too something.”

“You sayin’ I’m ugly, Rogers?” Bucky presses a hand to his heart like he’s affronted.

Steve looks at him then in a way Bucky can’t place. Then he squints. Shrugs. “You’re passable.”

They both laugh then. As Bucky catches himself admiring the way Steve throws his head back when he laughs, he thinks he’s gonna have himself a bit of a problem if he’s not careful with how he lets himself feel.

Seeing Steve’s drawing reminds him he owes Steve more news on the goings-on of the city. He shyly admits he hasn’t had a whole lot of opportunity to go digging up any information, but Steve just gives him an understanding smile. “That’s okay. New York is a big place. I’m sure there will be something to discover eventually.” Bucky relaxes, grateful for Steve’s patience.

“Bucky!” Clint calls from down the hall. “Get your ass up! Natasha’s home, and she brought breakfast!”

“Be out soon!” Bucky shouts in response, a little sheepish as he looks back at Steve. “Sorry. Clint has no sense of boundaries.”

Steve just looks amused. “That’s okay. I guess I should let you go, then. You think they’ve made any progress yet?”

It takes Bucky a moment to realize Steve means Clint and Natasha working themselves out romantically. Bucky thinks for a bit, and then scrunches his nose, shaking his head. “I doubt it. Nat will most likely wait for Clint to make the first move, and he’s not gonna for a while. I may have pushed him, but who knows how far that’ll go.”

“Just because I have hearing aids doesn’t mean I can’t hear you gossiping about me when I walk past, Barnes—” Clint cuts off after pushing the door open wider than it was. Bucky must’ve forgotten to close it in his haste to reach the computer on time. Clint blinks. “Is that Steve?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky moves so Clint can see the screen. Clint waves awkwardly. Steve waves back. Bucky unplugs his headphones so he won’t have to be a go-between.

“Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers,” Clint says, turning a deep shade of red as he realizes he’s intruding. Bucky is dutifully holding in the laughter bubbling in his chest.

“Likewise,” Steve responds. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Clint narrows his eyes at Bucky. “So it seems.” Steve laughs.

“Don’t you have a breakfast to eat, Barton?” Bucky interjects, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah. Your egg sandwich is gonna get cold. You don’t get it soon I can’t guarantee it’ll wait for you.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll eat soon.”

“Good to see ya, Steve,” Clint says, backing out the door.

“Good to see you too!” Steve calls as Clint shuts Bucky’s door behind him. Bucky hides his face in his hands and plugs his headphones back in.

“Sorry about that,” he says, lifting his face up. “I told you — no boundaries.”

Steve chuckles. “It’s okay. It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

“I’m not inviting Natasha in,” Bucky warns. Steve just laughs again.

“Guess you should eat your breakfast, huh?” Steve asks after the silence stretches out a beat too long. Bucky’s about to wave him off — he can always eat later and he finds he doesn’t want their conversation to end yet — when his stomach growls loudly enough he’s sure Steve picks up on it. He feels his face heat up.

“Yeah. Guess I should.”

“We should, um. Do this again soon. If you want.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Steve’s grin is blinding, even as the wifi fights to keep him in focus. “Me too.”

✪✪✪

When Bucky comes out for breakfast, he’s equal parts giddy and worried. He loves his friends dearly; he loves getting grilled for information or teased with no mercy less so.

In spite of his threats, Clint didn’t steal Bucky’s sandwich, but it is cold by the time Bucky gets to it. Clint fixes him with an expectant look as he digs in, although Natasha’s arched eyebrow is more intimidating. He hopes she didn’t hear him talking about them, too.

“Hey, Nat,” Bucky greets. She nods at him. “Welcome back. Thanks for bringing food.”

Natasha shrugs. “You boys don’t always know how to feed yourselves. I’ve seen your refrigerator.” Bucky and Clint both make an indignant noise, but neither really has any solid arguments against her. Bucky may like shopping, but he doesn’t go as often as he should. “How’d the call go?” she asks Bucky, who feels a little guilty for not telling her about it before now. In fairness, she’s been on a mission, and he never knows when she’ll be able to contact them when she’s working  anyway.

“Pretty well, based on the pep in his step,” Clint says. Bucky throws a chunk of croissant at him.

“It was good,” Bucky responds, glaring at Clint with little heat. Then he adds, a little sheepishly, “We’re planning to talk again next weekend.”

Clint _whoop_ s, turning toward Natasha. “I told you! I could see it on his face.”

“Please, you couldn’t even see past your own embarrassment at barging in in front of Steve,” Bucky says.

“Your door was open, so I assumed—”

Natasha talks over both of them, unperturbed. “He was good to talk to, then?”

Bucky can’t help the smile that takes over his face. “Yeah. He was really great. Even better than his letters.”

Natasha smiles in that subtle way she has, one corner of her lips quirking. “I’m glad. I think he’s been good for you, James.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read through this chapter so many times trying to revise that i'm not even sure it's coherent anymore, so hopefully that was readable oop
> 
> also - this chapter marks abooout a third of the story done! i have some heavier editing (and adding/removing) to do on later chapters but it's looking at somewhere around 16 chapters total? maybe? we'll see. i keep adding more than i'm cutting, lol


	6. Chapter Six

Bucky’s missed a few VA meetings since he got his arm. He hasn’t wanted to overwhelm himself, especially with people he’s tried so hard to hide his amputation from. He knows it’s ridiculous, that no one would understand better than other veterans — but he thinks it’s for that reason he didn’t want them to know. For a while he didn’t want to be understood by anyone, just wanted to understand.

It’s been tough to stray from his routine after finally establishing one with meetings in it, but it was worth the time spent getting used to life with both arms again. After he talks to Steve, though, he decides it’s time to get back on the VA horse. If he can show his arm to someone directly, he can come to group and keep it hidden.

Bucky’s sitting in his usual fifth-row chair in the middle when Sam walks in. He has both arms through his jacket sleeves, though his left hand is settled in his pocket. Sam does a double-take when he sees Bucky.

“This is new,” he says, nodding at the filled-in left sleeve. Sam knows about the procedure, of course; they’re friends in addition to meeting leader and attendee, and Bucky let Sam know why he hasn’t been around. Still, Bucky can’t help the grin that spreads across his lips. Honestly? He’s excited about having an arm again. At times he hates the way it feels foreign against his body, reminding him of who he’ll never be again, what he lost — but the moments he feels _whole_ again matter more, so he sucks it up. At least for now.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, withdrawing his hand from his pocket to show Sam the way his metal fingers move. Sam looks gobsmacked.

“Damn. That’s some ridiculous machinery.” Bucky nods in agreement. Then, of course, because Sam is Sam and this is the VA, Sam asks, “Has it been helping you? With readjusting?”

Bucky hesitates. “Not always,” he admits. “But it will, I think. I just have to get used to it.”

Sam looks worried at first, eyes flicking over Bucky’s face. “It’s definitely going to be a process,” he agrees. Then he smiles, kind and genuine. “Just remember — you ever feel like sharing, from hardships to happiness, everyone here will listen, got it?”

Bucky returns the smile with a soft, grateful one of his own. “Thank you, Sam.” Sam claps him on the (flesh) shoulder as he passes on his way to get himself set up at the front of the room.

“How’s Rogers, by the way?” Sam asks after he’s started rearranging the chairs to his liking.

“Doing well, I think,” Bucky says. “We talked on Saturday.”

Sam glances up at this. “Talked? Like in a way that isn’t on paper?”

“We Skyped.”

“No shit,” Sam says. “The guy works fast. I told him he should think about video chatting with someone from home a few weeks ago. Seems like that made him think of you.” Bucky’s cheeks heat up. Sam smirks. “It went well, then?”

Bucky nods, unable to keep a small smile off his face. “Yeah.”

“I told you he’d love hearing from you,” Sam tells him, and then some of the others start filing in and he drifts into other conversations.

✪✪✪

_Bucky,_

_I know we’re gonna talk this weekend, but I wanted you to have this before anyone here could get ahold of it. I hope you like it. It’s all from memory, so it may not be entirely accurate, but I’m sending it anyway._

_I really enjoyed talking to you. One of my squadmates, Thor, mentioned I seemed more upbeat than usual this week. I think it’s because of you. So thank you for that._

_Talk/see you soon,_

_Steve_

✪✪✪

“Rogers,” Bucky says when the call begins at ten-thirty that Saturday morning, holding up an absurdly lifelike drawing of his own face. “How the hell did you manage this? And from _memory_?” Bucky shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous. This is amazing. Thank you.”

Steve ducks his head, cheeks already coloring that delightful red Bucky has decided he finds joy in provoking. “You said you wanted one.”

“Steve, you coulda drawn me a stick figure and I woulda loved it. This is — wow. You’ve really got talent, you know that?”

“Keep talking like that, it’s gonna get to my head,” Steve says, still looking a little embarrassed at the level of Bucky’s praise.

“You deserve it, though. But I guess I should keep your ego in check.”

“A little boost doesn’t hurt,” Steve allows, and Bucky just laughs.

They catch up on what’s been happening throughout the week, anything new worth sharing. Steve tells Bucky about a prank a Lieutenant Lang played on some of the other men. He doesn’t stop smiling as he recounts the exploits and how he probably should have stopped it but was too entertained to not let it go, and everyone’s been tense lately as they wait for the latest combat mission to end. Bucky can’t help but be drawn in by the animated way Steve talks, half the story told with his hands.

Bucky is excited when his chance comes around, proudly telling Steve he went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

“I’ve actually never been there before,” Bucky admits. “But man, it’s gorgeous. So calm. And empty, too — not a lot of people tend to go mid-morning on Thursday.”

Steve smiles at him, all warmth and pride and something fond Bucky doesn’t know what to do with. “I haven’t been there in a decade, probably. I think the last time I went was for a school project.”

“If you ever wanna chill out, that’s the place. It’s nice to be surrounded by nature in a place as busy as New York, ya know? I woulda never thought it, but it was worth Sam talking me into it.”

After their last VA meeting, Sam texted Bucky saying he had an idea of how Bucky could push himself outside of his comfort zone a little, get out of familiar places a bit more. When he mentioned the garden Bucky was in favor, so Sam offered to take him. Bucky kept his arm tucked away the whole time, but overall he enjoyed it, and managed to stay present in his head the entire visit. That’s the part he’s the most proud of.

“It was a good day. Nice to be out with someone other than Clint or Natasha for a change,” Bucky says, only half joking. He loves the two of them, he does, but he knows he needs other friends. The other option he has is spending time with Tony, and although he’s gotten used to the guy over the past few weeks, he’s not sure he’ll ever voluntarily go sit and listen to Tony talk at him.

“I’m glad to hear it, Buck. You deserve a good day every once in a while.” Bucky ducks his head. “Hey — you said Sam talked you into it. Would that be Sam Wilson, by chance?”

Bucky looks up again. “Yeah. He mentioned you two know each other.”

“He’s my best friend,” Steve tells him. “He didn’t say he knew you, though.”

“Maybe he doesn’t wanna show you up since he and I are hitting it off so well.”  
“You tryin’ to steal my friends, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugs. “I’m better-looking and part cyborg. What’ve you got on that?”

They watch each other for a moment, until Bucky quirks an eyebrow and Steve tosses his head back and laughs, bringing Bucky along with him.

That is, until Steve swears, glancing down. Bucky frowns. “You good there, Steve?”

Steve glances up at the screen, embarrassed. “Yeah, I, uh. Might have just spilled tea all down my shirt.”

Bucky tries (and mostly fails) not to laugh. “That funny, huh?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Funny-looking, maybe.” Bucky snorts. Steve tugs on his shirt a little and then glances back up a little sheepishly. “Mind if I —” He gestures behind him, toward what looks like a wardrobe. Bucky gestures a go-ahead.

“You don’t gotta stay in tea-covered clothes on my account.”

So Steve stands up, and he gets almost out of the frame of the camera before he takes his shirt off.

Now, Bucky knows he probably shouldn’t be looking — but he can’t help the way his mouth goes dry when he sees Steve’s broad shoulders tapering down his back to a narrow waist. He catches sight of what may just be washboard abs and pecs he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the likes of before — not to mention the beginnings of an ass Bucky thinks he’s already fallen for. He licks his lips to wet them again as Steve tugs another shirt on over his head, smoothing it down before coming back to sit in front of his webcam again.

“Sorry,” Steve says, and Bucky just blinks at him, trying to get his bearings.

“Christ, Rogers, if you wanted to take your shirt off, all you had to do was say so,” is what ends up tumbling out of his mouth, and he’s rewarded as Steve’s face flushes a brilliant scarlet. “Especially when you look like _that_.”

Steve doesn’t cover his face with his hands, but it’s a near thing. He’s still bright red. Bucky kind of wants to hug him. (Among other things.)

But then, of course, Bucky worries he’s crossed a line, since he’s been thinking with something other than his head. “Shit, I’m sorry, was that too far? I didn’t — I mean, you —”

“It’s okay,” Steve interrupts, letting his hands fall. He looks shy but not upset. Bucky feels like he can breathe again. “I’m just — not used to. That.”

“Steve,” Bucky says, all seriousness. “You telling me no one’s told you you’re gorgeous before?”

If possible, Steve blushes harder, but it also looks like he’s trying to hide being just a little bit pleased. Something blooms in Bucky’s chest. “I was bullied a lot, as a kid,” Steve tells him. “For how I looked, how I was. I told you I was sickly.  That wasn’t the only reason I spent so much time alone.”

Bucky feels a surge of protectiveness. How dare anyone not see how brilliant this man is? He aches for Steve as a child, lonely and sick. He wants to punch whoever bullied him — even though Steve could probably handle that on his own now, what with the abs and the pecs and the biceps.

Steve continues, “I got in fights because I stood up when people didn’t want me to. I was kind of a loudmouthed kid who stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.” He huffs a sad little laugh. “Point is, I didn’t get a lot of compliments. When I grew out of a lot of that and joined the army, people started looking at me differently. I never really got used to it.”

“I can’t speak for how you used to be, ‘cause I didn’t know you then,” Bucky begins. “But from what I can tell, you’re a great guy. Maybe the outside now just matches what was on the inside before.”

This time Steve really does smile, and though it’s not as bright as his usual ones, there’s something sincere and grateful about it. “Thank you, Bucky. That means a lot.” Bucky nods, returning Steve’s smile with a warm one of his own — until it morphs into a smirk.

“You got it, Stevie.” He waits a beat. “As long as you keep away from khakis, you’ll be fine.”

Steve laughs, then, and the moment is broken. After he collects himself Steve’s nose wrinkles in a way Bucky can’t help but find adorable. “Did you just call me Stevie?” he asks.

Bucky blinks. “Did I?”

“You definitely did.”

“Oh. Should I not?”

Steve takes a moment. Then a slow smile spreads across his lips. “No. I like it.”

Steve’s blush sticks around for a while, even as they wade into more neutral conversation territory. They talk about everything and nothing, and Bucky can’t help but be disappointed when he knows the call should come to an end. Steve is yawning every few minutes, which Bucky thinks is his cue to let him go.

“Steve, you keep yawning like that, I’m gonna start to think I’m borin’ you.”

Steve looks a little abashed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.”

Bucky smiles at him. “I get it. It’s okay. You should rest up.”

Steve looks like he thinks about protesting, but then a huge yawn takes over his face. He sags. “Yeah. I probably should.”

“We’ll talk soon, yeah? Next weekend, same time, same place?”

Steve smiles, eyelids drooping. All at once Bucky can see how exhausted he is. “Sounds good to me. And — thank you, Bucky.”

“What for?”

“For —” Steve makes a vague gesture. “All of it. Bein’ you, I guess.” His Brooklyn drawl comes out when he’s tired. It makes Bucky smile.

“You tryin’ to sweet talk me, Rogers?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Jerk,” he says with no heat.

“Punk.”

They look at each other for a moment. Bucky’s proud of how he manages not to fidget beneath Steve’s gaze. Then Steve offers up another tired smile.

“Have a good day, Buck.”

“Sleep well, Stevie.”

✪✪✪

That night, Clint and Bucky are both laying on the couch, legs out and facing each other. It’s the only way they both fit fully extended, and they still don’t, really, but there’s something comforting about having the other’s weight there. Even if it means their toes rest against each other’s sides. (They share a blanket so they can pretend they aren’t cuddling with each other’s feet.)

“How was your second chat with Steve?” Clint asks, though his eyes stay trained on the captions for the episode of _Friends_ they’ve probably already seen twice before. He blindly fumbles for popcorn in the bowl on the floor and nearly knocks it over. Bucky swipes it and sets it on his stomach, shoving a handful in his mouth.

“Pretty good,” Bucky says when he’s finished chewing. “I hope.” Onscreen, Ross whines about something again, so Bucky grabs another handful of popcorn and looks over at Clint instead. “I maybe saw him shirtless. Unintentionally. And then told him he’s hot, which wasn’t really what I meant to say, but he didn’t hang up, so I count it as a win.”

Clint is gaping at him. “Sorry, hold on, are my hearing aids working? Did you say shirtless? Jesus, Bucky, you work fast.”

Bucky throws half his handful of popcorn at Clint. “It wasn’t like that, asshole. He spilled tea on himself.”

Clint gathers the scattered popcorn and shovels it into his mouth. Then he raises an eyebrow. “You sure it wasn’t on purpose?”

“Steve’s not like that,” Bucky protests, thinking about the bright red blush on his cheeks when Bucky had complimented him. “Can’t say I minded, though.”

“You’re really not hiding this crush, huh?”

“The man is an Adonis, Clinton. Can’t a guy just think he’s hot?”

“Sure he can,” Clint says. “Not you, though. You’re already head over heels. I can see it. Could see it last week, too.”

Bucky’s glad the lights are off for their _Friends_ marathon, or the flush he can feel sneaking up his neck would give him away. He tosses another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“You really told him he’s hot?”

“I may have used the word ‘gorgeous.’”

Clint bursts into full-on belly laughter, clutching at his stomach. Bucky kicks at him; he doesn’t think it’s that funny, but he can’t help but smile too.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes.

“God, man, you’re too far gone. It’s pretty great.”

Bucky shoves at his legs, but Clint’s on the inside of the couch, so if Bucky pushes too hard he’ll end up pushing himself onto the floor. Clint just laughs again.

When he’s calmed down, Clint rests a hand on one of Bucky’s ankles, giving it a friendly squeeze. “In all honesty, I do think he’s helping you a lot, Bucky. You’ve been talking to everyone more since you’ve started talking with him. It’s nice to see you coming back out of your shell again.”

Bucky ducks his head, smiling and a little proud. “Thanks.” He nudges Clint with his foot, though with a less malicious intent this time. “I wouldn’t be anywhere near here without you and Nat, though, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” Clint pats Bucky’s ankle. “We’ve all been very crucial to each other’s sanity. Now shut it, Chandler and Monica are having another quickfire argument and I can’t read the captions fast enough when you keep yapping at me.”

Bucky refrains from pointing out he’s the one who started it and settles in more comfortably on the couch, maybe letting his feet creep up a little closer to Clint’s face in retaliation as he does so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't feel great about this chapter but i think it's the best it's gonna be and i've already killed a lot of darlings and i like parts of this one too much to say goodbye, so there it was. (also i'm lazy.)
> 
> i hope you liked it anyway!
> 
> things start to pick up next chapterish, so hold out if you can! i swear there's more to it than this!
> 
> as aaaalways, thank you for reading if you did ♥


	7. Chapter Seven

_Steve,_

_I write with an exciting development. I may have caught Nat and Clint actually flirting. It’s hard to tell, because Clint’s about as smooth as sandpaper and Nat keeps her cards close to her chest, but she had this little smile I don’t really ever see from her. I think it’s worth considering progress._

_Then, of course, they tried to get me to go to Coney Island with them. While I love the both of them dearly, knowing their love story may finally be beginning doesn’t entice me to go be a third wheel. I thought about inviting Sam along — he and Clint seem to like each other, and I feel like he and Nat may just get on like a house on fire — but I’m not sure I can make it out to Coney Island yet. That’s a lot of people all in one place, a lot of loud noises, and a lot of unpredictability._

_I thought I was making progress. I still think  so, mostly. I’ve spoken more to people I don’t live with — well, you and Sam, mainly, but still — in the past few months than my entire time in the service. I feel better._

_But I’m still not_ _me_ _again yet. Not fully. The thought of going to an amusement park is terrifying. I don’t know how I’ll act there, how everything will affect me. I hate feeling this way and I don’t know how to tell them I’m uncomfortable going without feeling weak._

_I know recovery and readjustment is a process. I know it takes time. I guess I just thought things would speed up now that I can tell things are actually changing, however slowly. It’s frustrating and it’s exhausting._

_Sorry for the downer. It’s late, I can’t sleep — another area without a whole lot of improvement — and I’m thinking too much._

_Don’t judge me too hard for my midnight ramblings,_

_Bucky_

✪✪✪

_Bucky,_

_From what you’ve told me about your friends, they’d completely understand if you weren’t ready to go out with them in a way like that yet. I think if you told them, they wouldn’t push. But I get where you’re coming from, and it’s hard when you want to be ready but don’t feel ready._

_That’s kind of how I felt growing up. I wanted to be able to do what everyone else could, and it just wasn’t my time yet. If a scrawny, sickly kid like me can grow up and out of that, I believe you can bounce back. And even if you’re not who you were before, well, you’ve grown since then. People change, and that’s okay. Especially when you’ve been through as much as you have. No one should expect you to be exactly the way you were before. You probably won’t be._

_You should know I can see you doing better even just in the subtle tonal change of your letters. You really are making progress._

_But if it helps, I like you as you are._

_I hope you’re able to get more restful sleep soon. Let me know if anything else new happens with Natasha and Clint — you’ve got me invested, now, too._

_No judgment here — ever,_

_Steve_

✪✪✪

The pattern continues for a handful of weeks: Bucky and Steve keep writing to each other and talk on Saturday mornings. Bucky’s friends all know this routine by now, asking about Steve and the goings-on on the other side of the world. Bucky feels lighter for it, this chance he’s had to get to know Steve and cultivate the friendship they’ve created.

Of course, it’s also given his mind (heart?) time to plant, water, and sow his massive crush on Steve Rogers. He still gets a rapid flutter of butterflies each time their call starts and he sees a flash of Steve’s brilliant smile, reminding him he is oh-so-fucked. Not just because they’re separated by an ocean and then some, but because he’s supposed to be here as a friend from home for Steve and half his brain is drooling over how good he looks when one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk when he’s being coy. 

It doesn’t help that Steve seems to be embracing his flirty side more, too. As time has gone on, Bucky’s increased his compliment output. At first it was because he wanted to see Steve’s cheeks turn pink, but then Steve found ways to reciprocate, and at this point Bucky genuinely can’t tell if Steve is just a really nice guy or he’s actually picking up what Bucky is putting down. 

For instance: Steve sends over another drawing of Bucky. This one seems more lovingly crafted than the others, a bit more care taken with it. He really took the time to get down the shading of Bucky’s face as he laughs, eyes nearly closed, nose crinkled. 

It’s not from memory, though, like the other one. Instead — 

“I took a screenshot,” Steve admits, mumbling into his chest as he ducks his head down after Bucky’s extensive praise. His cheeks are, of course, his signature shade of red. “You looked perfect. I knew I had to draw it but couldn’t in the moment.”

Bucky ignores the way his heartbeat stutters at the words and is proud of how steady his voice comes out as he says, “Perfect, huh?”

He expects Steve to snort, or wave his hand, or roll his eyes — something to get Bucky onto another subject, to shift the focus. But he doesn’t. He just lifts his head and looks at Bucky with something soft and warm. “Yeah, Buck. Perfect.”

They stare at each other through the screen for a moment and Bucky thinks his heart is going to explode out of his chest, but before he can worry about having the wrong reaction — or what his reaction should even _be_ — Steve clears his throat and moves on, launching into a relay of Scott Lang’s latest escapades. The guy really seems to get up to a lot of trouble. 

Moments like these are what give Bucky pause, wondering if he and Steve maybe do have something going on between them like Clint keeps trying to point out.

“He took a _screenshot_ of your _video chat_ so he could _draw you_ , Bucky,” Clint says one afternoon when Bucky manages to drag him along to buy their groceries. “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but that’s not something I’d do for just one of my pals. Especially not one I haven’t met in person.”

“You can’t even draw a stick figure,” Bucky points out. Clint knocks into him as they walk through the chip aisle. 

“Not the point and you know it. All I’m saying is I don’t necessarily think your feelings are unrequited.”

Bucky wants to snort, but even he has to admit to wondering about it. Still, it’s his duty to be annoyed, so he manages a half-hearted rolling of his eyes. “I’ll make a move when you make a move on Natasha.”

“That’s not fair. Natasha could kill me for it and no one would ever know. At least if you got rejected by Steve, you’ve got thousands of miles between you and very little risk of things getting awkward.”

“She’s not gonna reject you, Clint,” Bucky says, but this is a script they’ve been through more than once before. He snatches the bag of Cheetos Clint tries to toss into the cart and shoves them back on the shelf where they belong.  “‘Sides, I thought you two were getting flirtier.”

Clint pouts, staring wistfully at the Cheetos as they pass. “I don’t know. I thought so. But she hasn’t pushed it any further, and I —”

“You’re too afraid of her to do anything. I know.” Bucky sighs, glancing back toward his friend. “Don’t you think it’s worth the risk? You’ve been pining after her for years. If she wanted you to quit, she’d’ve told you already.”

Clint makes a considering noise but doesn’t look at Bucky. “I guess.”

✪✪✪

He’s making progress in more areas than just with Steve, though. Bucky manages to successfully integrate himself into the circle of chairs at VA meetings. The first time he moved a chair up and settled in, Sam had grinned at him, brighter than he’d ever seen from him before. After the meeting, he told Bucky they were due for a beer. Sam claimed it was because it had been a while and he wanted to hear about how things were going, but Bucky knew it was his reward for finally making it forward. 

Didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna take the free drink Sam offered, and when Bucky tells Steve that weekend, his chest puffs up with pride. Steve’s beaming face rivals Sam’s.

✪✪✪

“So,” Steve says as their call is winding down one weekend. “My — um. My deployment is up in a few weeks.”

Bucky grins. “That’s great! Earlier than you thought, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiles, but there’s something nervous about it. “I’m finally coming home.”

It takes Bucky a moment to really understand what Steve means. “Home,” he repeats. “Like, New York home?”

Steve nods. Bucky swallows, suddenly nervous himself. Is he saying — “I’ll be back for a while. Active duty, but from home.” Bucky still can’t quite formulate a response.

Steve is coming home. To New York. To Brooklyn.

To — 

“Bucky?” Steve is saying, brows creased together in the way that means he’s worrying and trying not to be obvious about it. At last, Bucky smiles, wide and happy.

“Sorry. Just — that’s really great, Stevie. You’ll finally get that tiramisu you miss so much,” he adds to keep himself from giving away how giddy this is making him feel.

Something that looks almost disappointed flickers on Steve’s face, but it’s replaced with a smile before Bucky has time to dwell on it. “God, _yes_. The tiramisu. It’s been so long.” 

Things settle into something more normal after that, but Bucky can’t quite get over the excitement he can feel threatening to erupt from him. 

He manages to hold it in until the end of the call — he doesn’t want to spook Steve with his enthusiasm — but can’t shake the good mood afterward. It’s so pervasive that at lunch Clint actually asks if he’s on anything, and Bucky just grins, because “Steve’s coming home.”

✪✪✪

Sam approaches Bucky after a meeting a few weeks later. Everyone is socializing amongst themselves or packing up and heading out. Bucky nods and smiles at those who nod and smile at him, finally willing to make eye contact,  and he thinks about going to grab one of the donuts someone brought in when Sam pops into view.

“Glad to have you in the circle with us,” he says, and Bucky can’t help his proud smile. He’s been working hard to get himself comfortable enough to sit amongst everyone else. He still hasn’t told his story, and he keeps his metal hand in his pocket, but he tries to engage with others telling theirs when he has the energy. Sam noticed, of course, because not only is he the leader of the group, but he’s Sam, so how could he not? “You’re making good progress, Bucky. This is a huge step up from where you were when you started coming here.”  
Bucky‘s smile widens. “Thanks, Sam. That means a lot.”

“No problem. You’re the one doing all the work; I just facilitate discussion here.” Bucky wants to protest that no, Sam definitely does a lot more of the work than he gives himself credit for, but he knows Sam won’t take it. Not now, at least. He is always adamant he only helps people along; each person coming to these meetings is helping themselves, little by little. “Speaking of discussion — do you have a minute?”

Bucky gestures at the emptying room around them. “The floor is yours.”  
“So, you know how Steve is coming back into town tomorrow,” Sam says. 

Bucky nods. He’s been both excited and nervous out of his mind for the past week thinking about being in the same space as him. Steve will be _here_. Close enough to touch. 

“I think you should be the one there to get him.”

Bucky double-takes. “What?”

“You should pick him up. When I talk to him, all he talks about is you. When he found out he was coming home early the first thing he told me was that he couldn’t wait to see you.”

Bucky’s blushing, but the warmth is spreading throughout his whole body, out to his fingertips and his toes. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling goofily until Sam rolls his eyes. 

“So you’ll do it?”

“I don’t have a car,” Bucky says, a little sadly. Sam waves him off.

“So use mine. Or Clint’s. I just think the first familiar face Steve sees in the States should be yours this time around.”

Bucky takes a breath. “Okay.”

“Okay then. We’ll work out the details and get you to base tomorrow night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to fully acknowledge that i'm speeding up the recovery process - soldiers like bucky would, in all likelihood, be in a worse state for a lot longer. obviously they wouldn't all be because everyone is different - but for as severe as a situation as i put bucky in, he's sure improving fast! the reasoning behind that is that i came up with a whole timeline for this fic and then after i'd worked it all out and written it i realized some of these recovery steps can take years SO i just want it to be known recovery and readjustment do take time! sometimes a lot of it! and i am definitely writing it a lot speedier than it goes for many soldiers.
> 
> anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading, and for your comments! i write because i love it but i post it to share and reading that others enjoy the story with me really means the world. so truly, thank you. ♥


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do believe this is the halfway point! i went through and did an estimation of how many chapters i think are left (hence the new chapter count) and if i'm right this chapter is kind of the beginning of what i think of as Part 2, so i hope you enjoy!
> 
> if you've stuck with it this long so far - thank you. i appreciate you. ♥

It’s no surprise when Bucky finds out Steve’s been delayed — he’s come home from a deployment enough times to know how it goes. You’re never back when you’re told you’re getting back. 

Still, it takes effort to rein in his disappointment. He actually put in some effort for the day — styled his hair, shaved his face, wore something a little more flattering than usual. Sam sounds apologetic when he gives Bucky the news. Bucky just moves on with his night, flopping onto his couch with Clint, Natasha, and a beer, telling himself it’s just a few more days. They’ve been talking for months without knowing each other face-to-face; what’s a short while longer?

Except a few more days turns into just over a week, and by that time Bucky has given up on being ready. He’s about to settle in with some cold pizza and more _Friends_ when Sam calls.

“He’ll be on base in an hour,” Sam says. “This one is official. They’re almost home.”

Bucky scrambles to his feet, searching the room for his shoes. “I don’t have your car,” Bucky tells Sam, tugging his shoes on when he finds them and then cursing quietly when he puts them on the wrong feet.

“Take mine,” Clint interjects from the couch. “Keys hanging by the door.”

“Sounds like Barton’s got it,” Sam says. “Good luck, Barnes.”

Bucky nods before he realizes he’s on the phone and Sam can’t see him. “Yeah. I — thanks, Sam.”

Bucky can hear Sam’s smile when he responds. “Tell Rogers I said hello.”

✪✪✪

Bucky takes Clint’s car to the airport with the condition that “there better not be anything nasty happening in there, Barnes, or I will use your money  to get my car detailed.”

Bucky’s arrives faster than he’d planned for, which would be great, except for the fact he’s left with no time to think, to psych himself up before he’s entering the hangar with no real plan for how he’s going to go about this. Should he have brought flowers? A sign? Anything aside from just himself? Especially since he probably smells like old pizza, hasn’t showered in two days, and is wearing what he thinks was Clint’s sweatshirt once upon a time but they’ve both worn it so much he can’t remember anymore. Bucky really wishes homecomings weren’t so unpredictable — he’d have liked to look a little more human than this for the first time Steve sees him in person.

It doesn’t help that he isn’t quite sure where he and Steve stand with each other. There’s been some flirting, sure, but nothing explicit about what either of them are looking for. Bucky knows what he wants but he’s not entirely positive it’s the same for both of them. He’d like to think so, given how often they talk in addition to still writing letters, and the responses to his flirting and Steve’s maybe-reciprocation — but he likes to know for certain. And so far? There isn’t a lot of certainty.

His right hand starts to shake as he stands amongst families and spouses with props of all kinds as they wait for their service members to be shuttled in. Bucky feels out of place; not just because he’s unused to being on this side of the line, but because he’s not a spouse or a family member or even a boyfriend. He’s just Bucky, here to see a man who somehow became one of his best friends while he was on the other side of the world. 

A younger woman next to him seems to catch on to his nerves. “First time getting someone back?” she asks, gentle. Bucky nods. He wants to say he doesn’t know how to be someone to come home to rather than just come home. But he can’t find the words. Still, she seems to get it, at least a little. “It’s hard. You don’t know what it’s going to be like to see them again. But it’s so very worth it.”

Bucky nods again, trying to muster up a grateful smile. 

A few more minutes pass until finally a shuttle pulls in. Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat but he can’t back out now, not when Steve is so close, not when they’ve come so far. He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but the fear shooting through him is making it tough to stay put.

That is, until he sees Steve step out from the shuttle.

Steve scans the crowd, taking a few steps forward. He’s jostled by other soldiers as they hurry to meet the people waiting for them. Bucky momentarily forgets how to function because there’s Steve in all his glory, with his Dorito-like shoulder-to-waist ratio leading down to long legs. Bucky’s absolutely sure Steve has an ass to die for and he can’t even see it (yet). 

Bucky comes back to himself before Steve notices him, so he takes a chance, calling out, “Hey, Captain America.”

Steve’s head whips toward him, eyes frantically searching the crowds of families and soldiers until they land on Bucky. Then he grins so brightly Bucky almost thinks he should shield his eyes, but he can’t help but mirror the smile right back. Steve rapidly weaves his way through everyone until he’s standing in front of Bucky. 

His eyes are a more vivid shade of blue than they look over video chat, and right now, Bucky’s drowning in them.

“Bucky,” Steve breathes. 

“Hiya, Steve.”

And then Steve’s dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around Bucky, holding him tightly. Bucky’s stunned just long enough for Steve to tense and start to pull away, but Bucky presses himself more tightly against Steve as he slips his arms around Steve’s middle and holds on. Steve settles in against him, pressing his face into Bucky’s hair. Bucky lets his head rest against Steve’s neck. Steve smells like desert air, the echo of some kind of aftershave, stale sweat, and something inherently _Steve_ that Bucky could definitely be into. 

They stand like that for a while, just holding onto each other, all of the emotions they don’t know how to say shoved into the embrace. When Bucky realizes he still hasn’t quite stopped shaking, he clutches Steve a little tighter, fingers fisting in his uniform. It’s finally hitting him that Steve, the man he’s been getting to know (and steadily falling for) over the past six months, is in his arms, and he never wants to let go again.

When Bucky lifts his head, he catches the eye of the woman from earlier, holding hands with a large, muscular blond man. She gives him a thumbs up and a smile, and then laughs as her man tugs her along. 

When they separate, Steve doesn’t pull back very far. His hands slide from around Bucky to rest on his shoulders. He grins.

“So you’re really here, huh, Buck?” Bucky laughs a little, untangling his fingers from Steve’s shirt.

“Yeah, Stevie.” He lets his hands slide along Steve’s back as they drop back down to his sides in spite of how badly he wants to keep holding on. “I’m here. No bad connections to keep me away now.”

Steve chuckles and lets his hands fall from Bucky’s shoulders. To Bucky’s joy, though, he doesn’t distance himself, just leans down to grab his bag and straightens by Bucky’s side, their shoulders almost touching.

“Lead the way,” Steve says. 

✪✪✪

“So, I don’t actually know where you live,” Bucky says as an excuse for his nervousness as they start on the road to get Steve home. Steve laughs and Bucky loves the way it echoes around the car, enveloping him the way it never could through a screen. “Sam gave me your address but I didn’t figure out how to get there before I came here.”

“Are you asking me to be a GPS for you?”

“If you would,” Bucky answers, trying to play off his insecurity. Steve has been wonderful with him through letters and their calls, but there was always a barrier between them. Now they’re alone together, nothing separating them, and Bucky isn’t sure if things will be as easy once they get past seeing each other for the first time. He doesn’t know if he’ll be enough keep Steve around now that he’s here.

Steve seems to catch on that something’s off. He reaches out to take one of Bucky’s hands but doesn’t comment on Bucky’s lack of directional knowledge; instead, he starts on directing Bucky where to go. He never lets go of Bucky’s hand.

By the time they reach Steve’s apartment building, Bucky isn’t ready to say goodbye. He’s just got Steve and he doesn’t like the idea of not having him again, insecurity be damned.

He’s an adult, though, so he pops the trunk to get Steve’s bag and hands it to him. Their hands brush during the transfer and Bucky can’t tell if it was intentional. 

“Thank you for the ride,” Steve says. “I would invite you in, but honestly, I’m exhausted, and I probably wouldn’t be very good company.”

Bucky smiles. He understands the feeling. “It’s okay. I’ve been there. You need rest.”

Steve reaches out to grasp Bucky’s right hand again, his hold gentle and smile a little wistful. “I’ll see you soon?”

Bucky returns the smile, ignoring the rapid thudding of his heart and the warmth of Steve’s hand on his skin. “Yeah. Soon.”

Steve nods and then holds up a finger as he realizes something. “Wait — here,” he says, taking his phone out and releasing Bucky’s hand. “I don’t know why we’ve never thought to exchange numbers before, but.” He hands it over with a blank New Contact form on the screen. “It’s a little faster than letters.”

Bucky chuckles softly as he takes the phone and inputs his number. Steve’s fingers drag along his as he takes the phone back and Bucky’s heart is about ready to burst through his ribcage. 

“I’ll text you,” Steve promises. Bucky nods with a smile. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

They watch each other for a moment, neither moving, until Bucky shakes himself out of the stupor Steve’s presence puts him in. He reaches out to clap Steve’s shoulder, squeezing once before letting go. “Go rest, Rogers,” Bucky says.

Steve pulls himself together and smiles faintly, giving Bucky a little wave before starting toward the steps to his apartment. 

✪✪✪

Bucky lets out a breath when he gets back in his car, trying to find a way to breathe through the overwhelming combination of emotions going through his head. It takes him a moment to gather himself enough to start the car.

He hasn’t even pulled away when the text appears on his phone: _I’m really glad you came tonight. -Steve_

Bucky grins, some of the tension in his chest easing up. _Pleasure’s all mine._

✪✪✪

Bucky’s thoughts linger on the feeling of Steve’s arms around him and the warmth of Steve’s hand against his the whole way home. For a guy searching for some signs the guy he’s into may also be into him, he feels like he just might have a chance. He wishes there wasn’t something terrifying about it.

Still — he’s glad no one’s awake when he gets home. He’d never live down the glee he knows is showing on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's pretty wild how little info the military actually has available to the public about homecomings. do they come back to base? is it in a hangar? in this universe it is!
> 
> anyway if you read through this chapter i do believe you are now over halfway through, so as i said at the beginning of the chapter, thanks for sticking around this long!! i hope you enjoy the rest of the fic. i'm workin my way through it too.
> 
> lots of love. ♥


	9. Chapter Nine

In spite of Steve’s arrival, Bucky has a routine and he sticks to it. The next day he makes his way to the VA early just like he does every week, prepared to share coffee and stories with Sam. He’s come to enjoy these mornings they have to catch up. 

“How are you doing with Steve here?” Sam asks, plopping down in the chair to Bucky’s left.

“He hasn’t even been here a whole day yet,” Bucky responds, though thinking about Steve being so close makes him smile. 

Sam doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. “I know. But this is a big change for you, and change can sometimes cause problems.”

“I don’t think Steve will cause a problem.” His voice comes out more forceful than he’d intended, but he doesn’t take it back.

Sam holds his hands up in surrender. “Listen — and don’t tell him I said this — I love the guy. He’s great. But keep track of yourself during all of this, too. Your routine may have to shift around again. I know it took effort to find the one you have now.”

Bucky sips on his coffee, unsure of how to respond. If he’s being honest, there has been a part of him a little scared of what this new dynamic will mean — for Steve and Bucky together as well as Bucky’s life. Having no valid argument, Bucky just nods. Still, he feels good about having Steve here, and says as much. Sam snorts.

“I could’ve told you that. You two have been mooning over each other to me since you started talking. It’s gross.”

Bucky laughs and hopes it hides the flush he can feel on his face.

 ✪✪✪

As Bucky ducks out the door after the meeting, he manages to knock into someone solid in the hall. He stumbles back, stuttering out an apology as he rights himself.

“It’s no problem at all,” the person says, and Bucky’s head whips up because he  _ knows  _ that voice — only to stare right into the baby blues of Steve Rogers, who grins at him as soon as he sees who just nearly bowled him over. “Hey, Buck.”

Bucky feels himself smiling before he realizes he’s doing so. “Steve,” he says, but it comes out like a sigh. He curses himself for sounding like a lovesick teenager and clears his throat before speaking again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Sam said you’d be here,” Steve tells him, just as Sam walks out beside them. Bucky raises his eyebrows at him. 

“I didn’t want to keep being a go-between,” Sam says, and then glances at Steve, a smile breaking through on his face. “Rogers,” he greets, pulling Steve into one of those handshake-hugs men are so fond of and clapping him on the back a few times. “Good to see you back on domestic territory.”

Steve grins. “Good to be back. I believe you owe me a drink, too, and it’s a year or so overdue.”

Sam casts his gaze heavenward. “You’re not even back a day and you’re already a pain in my ass. Why am I not surprised?” Steve and Bucky both laugh. This time Sam does roll his eyes, but there’s a fondness to it. “You two kids stay out of trouble,” he tells them as he starts walking away, shaking his head. 

Bucky turns back to Steve, who’s now giving him an endearingly shy smile. “Should we head out?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods, falling into step beside Bucky as he makes his way to the door.

The silence between them as they walk settles somewhere between comfortable and weighted. Bucky thinks it’s once again because they aren’t sure how to be around each other in person like this. 

“You’ve gotta be jet lagged,” Bucky says after a few moments of quiet, walking them in the direction of the subway station but not sure if it’s really where he wants to go. 

Steve shrugs. “I’m doing okay. I’m used to having to deal with the time changes.”

Bucky nods, feeling trapped in a well of small talk and unsure how to climb out of it. It was so easy with Steve when they were basing everything on their letters and the experiences that came up during the in-between time. It feels different now, and Bucky  _ really  _ hopes they’ll get over the awkward period soon, because he still hasn’t gotten over the thrill of having Steve close enough to touch.

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks after another short period of silence, the sounds of the city waking up surrounding them.

“I could eat.”

Buck grins. “Great. One of my favorite diners is down this way.”

 ✪✪✪

When they walk into Skyline Diner, they’re greeted with a grin and a scolding.

“Bucky Barnes!” the waitress behind the counter says, jabbing her finger in their direction. “Took you long enough to get your ass back in here. How am I supposed to know if you’re taking care of yourself?”

Bucky shrugs, biting back a grin. “Guess you’ll just have to feed me extra.”

“Only if you tip me extra, kiddo,” the woman retorts, rounding the counter and gesturing them to follow as she guides them to a table in the back corner, with a full view of every exit and one booth resting against two walls; in other words, Bucky’s table.

When they sit down, she turns a charming smile toward Steve, who’s watching the other two with an amused expression. “Pardon my manners. I’m Linda, and I’ll be helping you out today. Can I get you anything to start out with?”

“I’ll take a coffee —” Bucky starts, and Linda holds up a hand to shush him, leaving him sputtering. 

“You’ll take whatever I give you,” she says without looking back at him. Steve laughs as he requests a coffee for himself, and Linda smiles at him as she promises to be right out with it. Finally, she turns an expectant look back toward Bucky. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but can’t fully keep the smile off his face. “Linda, this is my friend Steve. He just got back into town. Please don’t scare him away.”

Linda flicks Bucky’s ear as she inclines her head toward Steve. “Pleasure to meet you, Steve. I’ll be back for your orders soon.” She drops a menacing glare town toward Bucky. “Hope you brought an appetite.” Then she’s off toward the kitchen, giving Bucky’s shoulder an affectionate (if extra tight) squeeze as she passes.

“She seems — friendly,” Steve says diplomatically, an unsure smile on his face. Bucky laughs.

“I’ve been comin’ here since I was a rowdy teenager. When Ma died, Linda tried to keep me in line best she could. My first job was actually washing dishes here.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “It was awful. Joined the army to get outta doing it.”

Steve laughs again, and something warm blossoms in Bucky’s chest at the sound. 

Things get easier after that. Linda managed to break whatever new tension has strung up between them, and they launch into an exchange of childhood stories, from the hilarious to the humiliating. Bucky beams when he makes Steve laugh so hard he almost shoots coffee out his nose. The conversation carries itself on after that.

By the time they finish eating, it feels just as comfortable as it did with thousands of miles between them, only now Steve’s foot is resting against Bucky’s ankle and if he wants to flick hashbrowns at Steve, he can. (And does. Twice.) 

Linda brings them a chocolate milkshake with a healthy serving of whipped cream on top after she clears the plates away. Steve frowns a little.

“We didn’t order a milkshake,” Steve says almost apologetically, like it’s his fault she might have made a mistake. Linda just smiles at him.

“On the house,” she says, winking at Bucky as she slips a second straw in and walks away. If Bucky weren’t so focused on watching Steve’s reaction to this, he might laugh. 

Steve blinks a few times, blush creeping up his face. 

Bucky wonders if he’ll ever not love to watch Steve’s cheeks turn pink.

“After you,” Bucky says, gesturing toward where the absurd amount of whipped cream has started to drip down the side of the glass. Steve huffs what might be a chuckle and leans in. Bucky can’t tear his eyes away as Steve’s lips wrap around the straw, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, which is an image that shoots straight to Bucky’s groin. Their eyes meet and now Bucky’s blushing too, glancing down at the table and willing his face — and other parts of him —  to cool down. Steve slides the milkshake across the table toward Bucky, who chances a look back up at him, only to see his face has reddened even more. It makes him want to laugh. The pair of them, truly.

Then Bucky notices Steve’s got a bit of whipped cream on his chin from getting too personal with the milkshake. “You’ve got a bit of —” He gestures toward his own face. Steve reaches up to get it off and misses. Bucky says, “Here, I’ll get it,” and reaches across the table to drag his thumb over Steve’s chin.

Then, without thinking, he sticks it in his mouth. Steve’s eyes go wide, and Bucky freezes for an instant before popping his thumb out as casually as he can and trying to act normal as he goes for a sip. He keeps the straw between his lips long enough for one taste of chocolate to reach him before leaning back. Steve is still watching him, stiff, and his blush hasn’t gone away. Bucky’s own face heats up even more and he slides the milkshake back across the table, willing himself to get it together and stop thinking about what Steve’s lips would look like wrapped around something else. It doesn’t help when Bucky’s tongue darks out to lick the chocolate off his mouth and Steve’s eyes track the motion.

Linda brings the check by with a sly look, which makes Bucky a little worried about just how much she knows what she’s doing to the two of them. Her presence is enough to bring Bucky back from his sex-deprived fantasies, though, and they manage to finish the drink with little incident, although they avoid each other’s gaze the whole time. 

As they walk out after they’ve paid — Bucky covers it over Steve’s protests; he shouldn’t have to buy breakfast the first morning he’s back in the States — Steve flashes one of his blinding smiles toward Linda. She returns it with a kind one of her own. “Thank you for keeping him in line,” she says, jerking her head toward Bucky. 

“It’s my pleasure,” Steve says with no shortage of amusement. Bucky feels a little betrayed. He can keep himself in line, thank you.

“Speaking of keeping him in line — mind if I steal him for a moment?” Linda asks with a steely gaze in Bucky’s direction that means it doesn’t really matter what Steve’s response is.

But of course America’s sweetheart Steven G. Rogers wouldn’t begrudge a woman time with her basically-surrogate son, so he tells them it’s no problem and the bell on the door jingles as he heads outside to wait.

“I haven’t seen that fella around before,” Linda says. “Which is pretty weird, seeing as you look at him like he hung the damn moon, and he watches you the same way when you’re not looking.”

She doesn’t know much about his life now, yet she still manages to know him too well. Bucky feels a rush of guilt all at once about the amount of time that’s passed since he last visited her. In his defense, losing an arm was pretty tough. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed those metal fingers, either, Bucky. I think you owe me a lot of catching up.” Bucky ducks his head, chagrined. He didn’t mean to leave her in the cold; life just got hard, and his deployments kept him away. “But that’s not why I kept you. I wanted to say you should keep that boy around. You look happier than you have since before you started in the army. If he’s any reason for that, don’t let him go.”

Bucky swallows against the wave of emotion he feels, blinking away the stinging in the backs of his eyes. 

“C’mere, kiddo,” Linda murmurs, tugging him into a hug. He holds on tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. She clucks at him.

“You don’t have to apologize. Just remember me from now on, huh?”

Bucky nods, giving her a squeeze before pulling back. She pats him a little extra hard on the cheek and then lets him go. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Bucky promises. Linda smiles.

“You better.”

Steve smiles when Bucky joins him outside. They fall into silent step beside each other, walking together back toward the VA. Bucky’s thoughts keep drifting back to Steve’s reaction to the whipped cream scenario, and unhelpfully supplying ideas that involve less clothes and more whipped cream on a few choice places.

After a while of walking and not talking, their arms brushing every so often, Bucky’s phone buzzes in his pocket. When he glances down at it, a quiet curse escapes his lips. 

It’s a text from Clint:  _ yo barnes, where r u? appt 2day. In 3 mins. & u r not here. if u dnt come soon tony is gonna talk me 2 death. _

Steve is frowning when Bucky looks back at him. “Everything okay?”

Bucky sighs. Tony is going out of town for the next few weeks, so Bucky’s next appointment had to move up to make sure he won’t need any tune-ups while Tony’s gone. He’s enjoying hanging out with Steve and he really doesn’t have the energy to deal with Tony Stark today. 

His arm still isn’t perfect, though, and something in it has been whirring loud enough for him to hear it lately, so he resigns himself to his fate. “Yeah. I just have an appointment I forgot about. As it turns out, cyborg parts need a lot of maintenance.”

“Shoot, Bucky, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mess up your schedule —“

“Now, none of that,” Bucky interrupts, firm. “You are not messing up anything. I usually see Tony on Friday mornings. He’s the reason my schedule is out of whack.”

Steve looks like he wants to argue, and Bucky can’t believe the nobility of this guy, but Steve just says, “At least let me give you a ride, since I’m the reason you’re gonna be late.”

“Steve, you don’t gotta worry—” Bucky pauses when he sees Steve’s face. There’s something guilty there, sure, but also something else. Potentially a little bit of mischief. Bucky is fascinated and automatically interested in whatever Steve’s got in mind. “Okay,” he allows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: every time i try to write a fic with steve and/or bucky, i wind up with a stern, mother-like figure working as a waitress at a diner they frequent for some reason. i can't figure out if i'm manifesting my mom instincts in these universes and trying to make sure these boys are eating enough, or what.
> 
> thank you so much for reading! i'm trying to keep getting these chapters up relatively quickly, but the farther i get, the more i need to change, so we'll see. plus big plans are coming up over the next week and a half or so.
> 
> but! still! i appreciate everyone's comments and anyone who's stuck around enough to read this far. y'all are the bomb dot com. ♥♥


	10. Chapter Ten

“No fucking way,” Bucky says when they reach where Steve is parked at the VA.

Steve’s face is caught somewhere between a grin and a smirk as he stands proudly next to his choice of transportation. 

“I can’t believe you ride a Harley. You never struck me as a Harley guy.”  _ And it’s really hot _ , Bucky thinks about saying, but in spite of their sexual tension at breakfast he’s wary of pushing boundaries when he doesn’t know where the boundaries lie. Still, he is certainly looking forward to holding tightly onto Steve for the ride to Tony’s.

Steve’s smile does morph into a smirk then, handing a helmet over to Bucky. Bucky makes sure their fingers brush as he takes it. “I’m full of surprises.” Steve’s whole new bad boy angle would actually be incredibly sexy were it not for the way his lip quirks like he can’t even take himself seriously. Bucky just snorts, shaking his head as he tugs the helmet on.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow when Steve doesn’t pull out another helmet for himself. “You gonna leave me the only safe one, here?” Bucky asks. Steve’s cheeks turn the slightest bit pink and, yeah, there goes the bad boy thing. Still, it’s adorable, especially when Steve tries to play it off with a nonchalant shrug.

“I’m not worried.”

Bucky snorts again as he tugs the helmet off, handing it back to Steve, who tilts his head at him, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows. Bucky shrugs. “If you’re not worried, why should I be?”

Steve bites back a smile and Bucky grins at him, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s as Steve brushes past him to stow the helmet and throw one leg over the bike, scooting himself forward. There’s enough room for Bucky behind him, but not a whole lot, and Steve’s got that damn smirk back on his face. Bucky’s starting to think the bastard planned this. He positions himself on the seat with his thighs against the backs of Steve’s, and when his arms wrap around Steve’s middle he can feel the outlines of Steve’s muscles beneath his hands. 

“Jesus, Steve, you could wash clothes on your abs,” Bucky mutters. He feels Steve’s laughter reverberate through him as he clasps his hands in front of Steve’s ridiculous abs and Steve starts the bike.

“Ready?” Steve asks.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

Steve pauses. “Where did you say your appointment was again?”

Bucky throws his head back and full-on belly laughs, his hands pressed against Steve’s middle. “You had this whole cool-guy bit and you didn’t figure out where you’re taking me. God, Stevie, you’re perfect. You really are.”

Steve’s got his head down, chin tucked into his chest. It’s hard to see his expression from behind him, but Bucky gives his stomach a reassuring pat and rests his own chin on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Stark Tower,” Bucky tells him. “The really big obnoxious skyscraper that says Stark on the top. Impossible to miss. And if you wanted my arms around you,” Bucky adds, tightening his grip and turning his face so his lips are almost at Steve’s ear, “all you had to do was ask.”

Steve shivers against Bucky’s chest before turning his own face in Bucky’s direction. Bucky leans back so Steve can meet his eyes. Steve’s face is pink but he’s smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then he revs the bike, not checking if Bucky is ready this time; he just kicks off, the motorcycle  jerking into motion.Bucky scrambles to tighten his grip around Steve’s middle as he’s thrust forward, molding himself against Steve’s back even more closely than he had been. He feels Steve chuckle rumble against his chest and squeezes him a little harder for it. 

It’s even better than Bucky could have hoped for, though, riding along behind Steve. He’s a deft motorcyclist, weaving expertly between cars on the crowded city streets with ease. Bucky lets himself relax into his death-grip on Steve, enjoying the feeling of Steve’s body against his, the tensing of Steve’s muscles beneath his hands.

By the time Steve reaches the Tower, Bucky’s legs are sore from how tensely he’s been holding them, and his right hand hurts from how tightly his metal fingers gripped it. There are noticeable finger markings. He should probably tell Stark to tone down the super-strength. 

When they stop, Bucky’s disappointed to be letting go of Steve but pleased to be able to flex his fingers again. 

He steps off the bike and admires Steve in all his windswept glory. He’s got that I-just-drove-with-the-top-down glow and Bucky is reminded once again Steve is too hot for his own good. It’s unfair, really. Steve smiles at him when he catches Bucky looking.

“Thank you for the ride,” Bucky says, which is about the only appropriate thing he can let out of his mouth. It still reeks of innuendo, if you look at it sideways.

“It’s no problem, really. I’m sor—“ Bucky glares and Steve cuts himself off.

“I told you. No apologizing. Stark has earned a little tardiness with everything I have to put up with.” Bruce hasn’t, but, well. He’d understand.

Steve shifts, still uncomfortable with it. Bucky reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, thumb resting against his neck. When Steve looks up at him Bucky’s stomach leaps into his throat, because there’s an intensity to his gaze Bucky aches  to explore. He strokes his thumb lightly over Steve’s neck, taking a step closer when he sees Steve swallow. Steve’s tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip and Bucky thinks this might be it, the moment he’s been waiting  _ months _ for —

“Barnes!”

Bucky’s head drops, chin against his chest. He sighs. His hand slides down Steve’s chest as he lets it fall from his shoulder, turning around.

“Steve, this is Clint,” Bucky says, tossing his hand out toward a mildly harried-looking Clint Barton, who stops in his tracks when he sees who Bucky is with and a grin spreads across his face. 

“How’s it going, Steve?” Clint greets, thrusting a hand out for Steve to shake. Ever-polite, Steve stands and steps off his bike to take it. 

“Good, thanks. Nice to finally meet you in person,” Steve tells him. “Although from everything I’ve heard, I kind of feel like I know you already.”

“Trust me, buddy, the feeling is mutual.” Clint looks back toward Bucky, and manages to miss the blush spreading across Steve’s cheeks. “I hate to interrupt, but Stark has been whining all morning and I don’t think he’s shut up the entire time I’ve been here. Especially without you. So we should head inside.”

Bucky turns back toward Steve, summoning up a smile even though he doesn’t want to leave Steve yet. (Or at all, really, but he’s choosing not to think about that part.) “I’m really glad we hung out this morning. We should, um.” He clears his throat and gathers himself up. “ Let’s do it again soon.”

Steve’s face lights up. “Absolutely. I’ll text you.”

Bucky can’t help but smile back when Steve looks like that, relaxing a little. “I’ll be waiting.” As he makes to leave, Steve catches his hand. He glances back, confused, but Steve just squeezes.

“Soon,” Steve emphasizes, and Bucky bites back his grin.

“Soon.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” Clint says as they wander out of Steve’s earshot. “I knew you had it bad, but I think Steve might have it even worse than you.”

Somewhere in his mind Bucky doubts it, thinking there’s no way Steve’s fallen as hard as Bucky has, but Steve’s eyes sparkled as he took Bucky’s hand and he can still feel the way Steve felt pressed against his chest, so he ignores those thoughts for a little while.

✪✪✪

“You’re chipper,” Tony says as Bucky and Clint walk in, glancing up from where he’s tinkering on what appears to be a laser of some sort. “And late. Don’t you know my time is precious, and I had to set aside extra for you?”

Bucky has long since learned not to be offended by Tony’s lack of tact. He just rolls his eyes, taking his jacket off.

“His man is in town,” Clint explains. Bucky throws his jacket at Clint’s face, satisfied with the pathetic way Clint tries to bat it away and gets tangled in it instead. Tony isn’t his friend (not in any normal way, anyway); he really doesn’t need to know this. 

But this concept has, unfortunately, intrigued him. Tony abandons the laser to join Bucky at the workstation, where he unceremoniously clears a space for Bucky to rest his arm. Mostly he just shoves things to the sides. “A man? Is this a he’s-my-bro straight guy thing, or a late-because-we-were-getting-nasty thing?” Bucky cringes. Clint snorts. Loudly.

“Is neither an option?” Bucky asks.

Tony shrugs. “Hey, I’m not judging your relationship style. You do you and all that.” Bucky groans and drops his head into his flesh hand. “Now hold still, I have to open the arm up.”

“It’s not a bro thing,” Bucky adds as an afterthought. “But he is a friend.”

“With or without benefits?” Tony asks as he opens the plating on Bucky’s arm, a flashlight between his teeth lighting up the wiring inside. 

“Won’t be without for much longer,” Clint says. Bucky doesn’t have anything to throw this time so he just holds up a middle finger. “The sexual tension is palpable. He didn’t wanna let go of Bucky so he could come in here.”

Tony perks up. “He was here? Why didn’t you bring him up with you? I want to meet this elusive man of yours who has you perkier than I think I’ve ever seen. You’d think you two had already done the dirty with the pep in your step.”

“Christ, Tony,” Bucky says, facepalming again.

“Stop moving or you’re gonna get electrocuted. I thought you’d know that by now.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but complies, holding his body motionless as Tony finishes moving some of the wires around.

“Flex your fingers,” Tony instructs, and locates the origin of the whirring noise as Bucky does so.

By the end of the appointment, Bucky’s arm is silent once more, and Tony lubes up the interior with no shortage of innuendo. 

Bruce comes in at the tail end of that, having had to shift his schedule around to accommodate this appointment too. He insists it’s really not a problem; he wants to make sure Bucky doesn’t have to come back to the Tower this week and still get his PT done after his tune-up. At once Bucky is nothing short of extremely grateful for Bruce Banner. 

The exercises today don’t push him as hard as they could but feel great nonetheless, even though Bucky still feels guilty about Bruce cutting out time for him. Bruce seems to notice, because he squeezes Bucky’s right shoulder as they’re warming down and says, “It’s no trouble. Really. My tests will still be there when I get back.” Bucky gives him a weak smile, patting Bruce’s hand on his shoulder and giving him a heartfelt thanks. The rest of the appointment goes off without a hitch, despite it being on the wrong day of the week at the wrong time of day. 

As Bucky and Clint are walking out the door, Bruce calls out to remind Clint about some exercises for the stiffness he tends to get in his neck. Tony calls out reminding Bucky to practice safe sex.

Bucky holds up a middle finger without looking back, Clint laughing beside him as the doors slide shut behind them.

 ✪✪✪

Bucky’s phone buzzes when they’re sitting on the subway, and he’s not surprised or displeased to see it’s a message from Steve.

_ How’s the arm? _

_ better than before. still not worth the inane chatter. the guy DOES NOT STOP. _

_ Was he mad you were late? _

_ nah. he’s just dramatic. it was fine, really. worth it. _

There’s a pause long enough for a few stops to go by before Bucky’s phone vibrates again.

_ I had a really good time this morning. _

Bucky hides his grin in his shoulder so Clint won’t tease him mercilessly. 

_ thanks for comin to see me, stevie. _

_ Anytime. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me, y'all. i am grateful for anyone reading, and especially anyone commenting. it really means a lot to know i'm not just writing this for me. i'm having a lot of fun with these boys, and i hope you're having fun with them, too. ♥


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is longer than usual - the rest all will be, i think - but i'd like to think it's worth it ;)
> 
> enjoy!

Every Saturday, the Barnes-Barton-and-sometimes-Romanoff household holds a movie night. It started after Bucky and Clint were discharged and they wanted a way to distract themselves from the ever-present memories of war. The films tend toward the silly and absurd because of this need for escape, though by now it’s steered more toward an easy way for the two (or three) of them to relax. As of late they’ve dipped their toes into the joys of awful romantic comedies.

Normally this isn’t an open-to-the-public type of event, but Sam has been added to the roster of guests since he and Bucky get along well, and Bucky especially knows how much Sam could use a breather. Sam’s been around long enough now he’s also mentioned about a partner he might want to bring along one of these days, if things go well with her. 

It is, frankly, the perfect opportunity to integrate Steve into Bucky’s friend group, and one he hopes doesn’t hold a lot of pressure. Natasha may be the only one who hasn’t met him yet, but she’s protective and intimidating, so keeping things light is probably the best plan of action. Plus, Bucky really wants her to like Steve. 

He brings it up when he and Steve meet at Bianchi’s for dessert on Thursday so Steve can finally get his damn tiramisu. He pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth as Bucky speaks.

“You want me to meet your friends?” Steve asks, blinking at him.

Suddenly very worried he’s pushing them over a line Steve doesn’t want to cross, Bucky backtracks. “I mean, it’s just a silly tradition we have, you don’t have to come if you’re uncomfortable. No worries, really —“

“I would love to,” Steve interrupts with a warm smile he seems to reserve just for Bucky before following through on his bite. Bucky sags with relief.

“Good. You already know Sam and Clint like you, so as long as you can get on Nat’s good side you’re golden.”

✪✪✪

“Steve’s coming to movie night,” Bucky announces at dinner that night. He, Clint, and Natasha are sat at the dinner table around a large bowl of spaghetti Clint managed to make without incident, and pre-made Garlic bread they heated up. It’s probably the closest to gourmet they’ve come since they came back home — or since the last time Nat went all-in when cooking something.

Natasha glances up at him. “Is that so,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. “Are things that serious with him?”

“Things haven’t even happened with him like that yet,” Bucky responds, playing with the noodles on his plate. “But he’s a close friend and I want you to meet him.”

“Especially because you’re in love with him.”

Bucky’s eyes snap up to Nat, who innocently takes a bite of her bread. “What?”

“Come on, James, it’s obvious. You haven’t ever been this focused on someone. Who was the last date you introduced to us?”

Bucky thinks. And thinks. “There was that girl Connie,” he finally says triumphantly.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Happening to be at the same party as the girl you’d gone on two dates with doesn’t count as intentionally introducing her. She didn’t last long after that, anyway.” Nat takes another bite of bread. Bucky looks down at his plate. “Besides,” she continues, “movie nights are kind of sacred. If you want to bring him here, this isn’t just a silly crush anymore.”

Bucky wills the heat creeping up his neck to go away. He swallows, setting his fork down. “We’re just friends,” he asserts, though it doesn’t sound all that convincing, even to himself. “Would I date him? Absolutely. But until he gives me an explicit sign he’s interested, I don’t want to push it.” He can’t bring himself to say  _ and I’m not in love with him _ , because he’s starting to think it would be a lie.

Well, shit.

“Bucky,” Clint jumps in. “If you can’t see Steve wants nothing more than to ride off into the sunset with you, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that, so after a moment of silence he picks his fork up again and stabs at his spaghetti. “Just be cool, okay? I don’t want to scare him off.”

“Nahh, c’mon, Barnes, we’re not that scary.” Bucky glances up as Clint slurps some noodles, slapping sauce all over his chin. Bucky just stares at him. Clint ducks his head, swiping a hand across his mouth.

“The man’s in the army. I’m sure he’s seen worse than Clint’s bad manners,” Natasha tells him, sliding a napkin across the table without looking at Clint. Bucky raises a meaningful eyebrow at her. After a few beats of a determined staring contest, Natasha looks away first, which Bucky takes as a win. 

“At least I’ll have Sam,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head.

✪✪✪

Sam arrives half an hour early to movie night, a case of beer in hand. When Bucky reminds him of the actual start time, Sam shakes his head.

“You invited Steve has-never-been-late-in-his-life Rogers somewhere. Thought I’d help him out and save him from being the awkwardly imposing guest when he inevitably arrived first and take one for the team instead.”

“I resent that,” Clint says from behind Bucky, stepping forward to take the beer off Sam’s hands. “I happen to be great company.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” Sam says, clapping Clint on the back and stepping inside. Bucky laughs at Clint’s pout and follows them in, trying not to let the nerves about bringing Steve here with his friends get to him.

Bucky has a tough time paying attention to any conversation he’s supposed to be a part of until he hears a knock at the door. He trips over his own feet in his haste to answer it, causing his friends to clearly and loudly laugh at him. He raises a metallic middle finger behind him as he reaches the entryway and straightens himself out, dropping his finger just in time to open the door. 

Steve’s whole face lights up when he sees Bucky, and Bucky’s sure his expression is much the same. “Hey,” Steve says, holding up a plastic bag. “I brought cannolis.”

“Steve, you perfect bastard,” Bucky says before gesturing him inside. “Clint is going to love you for this.”

The living room is set up for a movie: a blanket on the floor for Clint and Natasha to sit (and lay halfway through, as always) on, a giant bowl of popcorn between the blanket and the couch, Sam positioned on the recliner, beers in a cooler so they don’t have to keep going all the way to the kitchen for more. 

Clint and Sam are already in their positions, but they both call out greetings when Steve and Bucky walk in. 

“Are those cannolis?” Clint asks from the floor, perking up like a dog being shown a treat. 

Bucky glances at Steve. “I told you.”

They’re setting up the cannolis near the popcorn when Natasha walks in, remote in one hand and a pile of napkins in the other. 

“You must be Steve,” she says, tossing the remote down to Clint and holding a hand out for Steve to take. “I’m Natasha. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Steve flashes a winning smile at her, managing not to look intimidated  in spite of the piercing, analytical look she’s fixed him with beneath her casual smile. “Same goes for you. It’s always great to put a face to the name.”

“That it is,” she says. Then she glances at Bucky, a glint in her eye. “We left the couch for you. Be careful, though, Steve; James tends to hog the whole space.”

Bucky, a mature adult, sticks his tongue out at her from behind Steve. She just gives a slight shrug and gracefully folds into a sitting position next to Clint. 

“Make yourself at home,” Bucky tells Steve, flopping down on the couch. Steve toes his shoes off in the corner of the room before taking a seat on the couch a respectable distance from Bucky, who tries not to be disappointed. 

“Now that we’re all settled, we have to remind everyone of the rules for movie night,” Natasha says. “Rule number one: We don’t watch many quality movies here, so you’re welcome to laugh and talk as loud as you want. However, if you tell a joke and it’s ruled as awful, you are subject to attack by popcorn. Intensity varies based on just how bad your joke was.

“Rule two: You have to watch the whole movie, no matter what it is. Anyone who falls asleep is fodder for whatever the ones dedicated enough to stay awake decide to do.

“Rule three: Chew with your mouth closed.” Everyone looks at Clint, who takes a minute to catch on, and then frowns, affronted.

“Hey! I’m not  _ that _ bad.” 

Nat raises an eyebrow. Bucky makes a vague noise. Sam says, “Man, just because you can’t always hear yourself doesn’t mean we can’t,” and they all laugh. Even Steve lets out a little chuckle. 

“That’s it. Tonight’s film is some crappy rom-com from six years ago we stumbled upon on Netflix. Sit back and enjoy:  _ The Wedding Pact _ .”

As the movie starts, Bucky can’t think of much else aside from the fact he’s sitting three feet away from Steve in his own house — and maybe it’s the comedically romantic atmosphere, but he can’t help but want to move closer. He watches Steve for a few moments until Steve catches him looking, and then glances away, embarrassed. 

To Bucky’s unabashed glee, though, Steve slowly shifts closer to the middle of the couch, tossing his arm over the back. Bucky shifts as subtly as he can until he can feel Steve’s arm against his back. Steve catches his eye as if asking for permission, and Bucky’s already willing to do whatever he wants, so he nods, and Steve tugs Bucky in closer to him. Bucky settles against Steve’s side, biting back a grin as Steve absently strokes circles into his shoulder. 

About halfway through Clint lays down on the floor, stretching out his back enough to glance back at the couch. When he sees Bucky he grins, upside-down, and Bucky just rolls his eyes. Steve shifts and then their bodies are fully pressed together shoulder to knees and Bucky can’t find it in himself to mind. 

“Nat, can you hand me a beer?” Bucky asks, and is rewarded with a bottle and a smirk as she pointedly looks them over. Bucky hopes Steve doesn’t notice.

There are two popcorn attacks during the second half of the movie. The first comes when Clint makes a pun so bad everyone groans, and the second is Bucky nudging for an innuendo that was an uncomfortable stretch. The shower of popcorn is worth the feeling of Steve chuckling beside him, even if he gets caught in the crossfire — especially when Sam throws a handful from Steve’s other side.

When the movie is over, the last thing Bucky wants to do is move. He’s warm and relaxed snuggled up next to Steve. Steve makes to withdraw his arm and Bucky makes a noise of protest, burrowing in closer. Steve laughs and the sound nestles pleasantly in Bucky’s chest, though Steve manages to stretch and extricate himself. Sam waggles his eyebrows when he catches Bucky’s eye behind Steve. Bucky is about to respond with a complicated facial expression of his own when Steve looks back down at him.

“Guess I should head out, then,” he says, looking unfairly cute in the light from the paused movie credits.

_ You don’t have to _ , Bucky wants to say, but thinks he probably should let Steve go if he wants to. He bites his tongue and smiles, rising to his feet and stretching as well. He smirks when he notices the way Steve’s eyes follow his form, in response to which Steve glances away, looking embarrassed.

“I’ll walk you out,” Bucky says. They get their shoes on and stroll down the hall together, Steve’s hand brushing Bucky’s metal one often enough Bucky thinks it  _ has  _ to be intentional. The fact it’s his metal hand and Steve isn’t shying away has something tightening in Bucky’s chest, and not in a bad way. 

When they get to the elevator, Bucky turns toward Steve. “Thank you for coming tonight,” Bucky says, earnest. “I’m really glad you did.”

Steve smiles. “Me too. I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in a while.”

Bucky grins. “Guess we’re pretty funny, huh?”

“Modest, too.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve responds, pulling Bucky into a hug. “I appreciate you inviting me,” he says after a moment. Bucky squeezes Steve a little tighter.

“Of course. You’re always welcome. Especially after that incredible joke you made —”

“About the groomsmen?”

“Yeah! It was perfect. I think Sam almost shot beer out his nose.” They release each other and step back. Steve looks at Bucky with an underlying  _ something  _ Bucky doesn’t totally know what to do with. He clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Steve deflates a little, but he catches himself so fast Bucky thinks he might’ve imagined it. He smiles. “Yeah. Thanks again for the invite.” Steve steps out of Bucky’s space and the rush of cool air where he used to be nearly raises goosebumps on Bucky’s skin. 

Bucky watches as Steve steps into the elevator, and they wave at each other until the doors close. Just before they close completely, though, Bucky sees Steve’s shoulders fall just a little, and he decides, you know what, fuck it, he’s going to take what he hopes are very good chances. After all the touching and the flirting Bucky decides it’s worth the gamble, and he sets off down the stairs as quickly as he can. 

He manages to reach the lobby just as Steve is walking out the front doors of the apartment building. 

“Hey, Captain America!” Bucky calls, stumbling out after him. “You forgot something.”

Steve’s brow is furrowed slightly when he turns around, confused. “What?”

“This,” Bucky says, and then he’s got both hands on Steve’s face and his lips against Steve’s.

Bucky feels Steve’s mouth curve into a smile against his as Steve’s arms find their way to Bucky’s waist, hands settling warm and firm at the small of his back. Steve’s tongue traces Bucky’s lip before licking his way inside, eliciting a quiet noise of pleasure from Bucky’s throat. Bucky presses them together chest to thigh as their kisses continue, open-mouthed and desperate. Steve’s a little sloppy, a little out of practice, but so is Bucky — and it’s perfect.

Bucky’s hands slide from Steve’s face to his neck and then up into his hair as he catches Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth and Steve groans, pulling Bucky even more tightly against him. Bucky can feel Steve growing hard against him and he grins, shoving a knee between Steve’s legs. Steve gasps and tugs his lip free, pulling back just enough to rest their foreheads together, breaths mingling as their chests heave in tandem against each other. 

“If we don’t stop now, things are going to get publicly indecent,” Steve says, breathless. Bucky resists the urge to nip at his jawline.

“Everything about you is indecent,” Bucky responds, voice low. Steve shivers against him and darts in for another quick kiss. Bucky follows his lips as he pulls back and Steve lets out a breathy laugh.

“How am I supposed to go home now?” Steve murmurs, his hands sliding forward to rest on Bucky’s waist. 

“What if you don’t?” Steve pulls back far enough to look at Bucky in surprise. Bucky backpedals, suddenly feeling a lot less smooth. “I mean, I don’t want to move too fast, and I don't mean we should, y’know, do  _ that  _ yet if you’re not —”

Steve kisses him again. He shuts up. 

Steve’s lips are at his ear as he says, “Trust me, I want to.” He leans back. “But I think it’s better to wait. Plus — you do have roommates. They don’t seem like the type to leave us alone if we both went back up there.”

Bucky snorts. Steve understands Clint and Natasha well already. “Valid point. Guess we’ll have to say goodnight, then.” Bucky moves in toward Steve’s lips before finally giving in to his desire to mouth at Steve’s perfect jaw, biting lightly and then sucking just hard enough to leave a mark that won’t last. “Gotta give you something to look forward to,” he murmurs as he pulls back, letting his hands slide down Steve’s chest as he puts space between them. 

If Steve wasn’t a six-foot-tall muscle man, Bucky might say he whines, but his eyes are bright as he looks at Bucky, the smile he only ever reserves for him curling his lips upward.

“See you soon?”

Bucky smiles in response, his lips still tingling from Steve’s kiss. “Definitely.”

✪✪✪

When Bucky steps back into the apartment, three pairs of eyes watch him expectantly.

“That was a lengthy goodbye,” Natasha says, all innocence. 

Bucky thinks about ignoring them and just going to his room, but he can’t help it; he smiles. Sam groans. “You two are going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?” he huffs, shaking his head.

“You don’t even know what happened,” Bucky tries, but the smile he can’t drop doesn’t help his case. 

“You walked in with swollen lips and a visible glow about you. I think we can figure it out,” Clint says, deadpan. 

“The question is: Who initiated, you or Rogers?” Sam asks.

“I did.”

“Pay up, boys,” Natasha says, smug, while Clint swears under his breath and Sam grumbles quietly. They both press $20 into Nat’s hand. Bucky shoots them an annoyed look.

“You took  _ bets _ ?”

Sam shrugs. “You two have a stalemated flirtiness about you. We disagreed on who would make a move first.”

“Well.” Bucky looks at Nat. “I think I should be flattered you had faith in me.”

Natasha smiles as she pockets the cash. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold out as long as these two thought.”

“Suddenly I’m less flattered.”

The other men laugh. Bucky just rolls his eyes. “It was one kiss. Don’t get too excited.”

“Just one?” Clint raises an eyebrow. Bucky wills his blush away.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Bucky tells him, a moment too late. Clint just cackles. 

“I’m happy for you, Barnes,” Sam says, clapping him on the back. “But now that I’m paid up, I do have my own home to get back to. I’ll see you Tuesday morning — if you can pull yourself away from Rogers, that is.”

Bucky shoves at him as he passes. “That’s enough outta you, Wilson.”

Sam just laughs as he leaves. 

✪✪✪

Bucky falls asleep that night thinking about the feeling of Steve’s lips on his, warm palms flattened against his back.

✪✪✪

Sleep doesn’t last long, however, as the reality of what his life also entails comes crashing down around him when he wakes up drenched in sweat, gasping for air and afraid to shut his eyes again because every time he does all he sees is the light of the explosion that almost killed him.

Bucky sits up, his hair sticking to his neck and forehead. A quick glance at the clock lets him know it’s a quarter past four in the morning. If he waits forty-five minutes it’ll be almost an appropriate hour to be awake. He could probably go for a run like he does on most early mornings.

Today, though, he feels too keyed up to be able to do much of anything. His body isn’t shaking externally, but he can feel the tremors on the inside, threatening to wrack through his entire frame. Bucky looks down at his metal hand, gleaming in the light from the moon, and watches his synthetic fingers flex. He tries to use it to ground himself in reality even though he can still hear the sounds of his teammate being ripped apart, the blast shuddering through them, the feeling of his body slamming into the ground.

Bucky exhales with more force than necessary and clenches his metallic fingers into a fist, slamming it down onto his mattress. It’s been nearly a year since the accident and he still thinks about it daily — being overseas, the face of every person he dropped from his sniper perch, the corpses of his friends, among other terrible things. He had hoped coming home would help him — and he understands readjustment is a process, he  _ really does  _ — but all being home has done is remove him from the source of his nightmares so they can visit him on his own turf instead.

Against his better judgment Bucky lets his eyes fall briefly shut, trying to take a deep breath and calm down, but they snap open as soon as he sees the orange light of the blast again. With the sinking knowledge he won’t get any more sleep tonight, Bucky throws the covers off his legs, intent on making a cup of tea to calm him down before going on a run to try and burn off his anxious energy.

He isn’t expecting to see Natasha when he enters the kitchen but there she is, putting away a mug of her own. He joins her in silence, accepting the tea bag she offers him and pouring hot water over it. 

“Nightmare?” she asks after a few moments. Bucky gives a jerky nod. She nods in acknowledgement. “Me too.”

Bucky glances at her in surprise. She meets his gaze with a steady one of her own, but there are deep purple bags beneath her eyes, and something haunted lurks behind them. He feels a rush of guilt for never noticing before — though in his defense, Natasha is a master at never betraying what’s actually going on in her head. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky makes himself say, though the effort to speak takes a lot from him in this state. Natasha knows this. 

“Me too,” she says. They stand in silence a while longer, Bucky sipping his tea every so often, before she speaks again. “Want to go watch some stupid infomercials that run at this hour?”

Bucky snorts, but he nods and follows her into the living room, where they settle on the couch to learn about products nobody actually wants or needs. Natasha sits with her legs crossed, knee resting on Bucky’s thigh, and Bucky lets it ground him until sunlight filters in through the blinds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT FINALLY HAPPENED! they did the smooch thing! it's all smooth sailing from here, right?
> 
> right?
> 
> i hope you've enjoyed. we are in the home stretch of this story and i couldn't be more thankful for everyone who's been reading along. you really do motivate me to keep going and making this story better. i appreciate you.
> 
> also - i don't have a tumblr, but i DO have a [pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.com/birdlaced/fic-i-wanna-be-known-by-you/) for this fic because why not? it feels kind of self-serving but hey, i'm a visual person, so. ya know.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little shorter than usual because i realized i wanted to change up how i had everything split and i still have more revisions to do for what was going to be the second half of this chapter, so bear with me, but hopefully you'll enjoy this one!
> 
> we are nearing the end and i'm so grateful for everyone who's been reading along. home stretch!

Bucky’s just coming back in from running off his nervous energy when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He smiles when he sees it’s a text from Steve.

_Good morning :)_

Bucky snorts, unsurprised Steve is a good-morning-text kind of romantic. They barely have time for a greeting exchange before Steve’s asking about his plans for the night, followed once he knows Bucky’s free by:

_Will you go to dinner with me?_

_like on a date?_

_Yeah. Like a date._

Bucky smiles to himself, shooting off an instant reply.

_i’m in._

Steve sends a grinning emoji before they work out the timing, and Bucky spends the rest of his day looking forward to it.

✪✪✪

Their date is great. Steve shows up on his Harley, as Bucky had expected, and his eyes go wide when he sees Bucky all dressed up — also as Bucky had expected. Steve looks fantastic, of course, in jeans that hug his ass and a sweater he probably owned before he bulked up in the military and just won’t get rid of. The blue brings out his eyes and he smiles when Bucky tells him so.

They eat at a Thai place Bucky has always wanted to go to. The dynamic between them is much the same as it was before the kiss, which Bucky is grateful for, aside from the new freedom to touch each other as they please. Taking advantage of this, Bucky rubs at Steve’s ankle with his foot — which turns into an aggressive game of footsie that has them both doubled over in laughter by the time their food comes. Later,  Steve reaches across the table to take Bucky’s hand in his — the left one, which makes Bucky’s breath hitch — and smiles when Bucky links their fingers together as the conversation continues.

They stop for ice cream after dinner and steal from each others’ cups, knocking their shoulders together and giggling as they play keep-away. Everything about it is easy in a way Bucky hasn’t had with a relationship in — well, ever. He tries not to let himself think about the L word, but as the night continues it creeps in and settles like a cat in front of the fireplace. Damn Natasha for getting it into his head.

After the sun goes down Steve brings Bucky to the Brooklyn Bridge, where they sit on a bench and watch the lights from the city glimmer on the surface of the East River. When Bucky kisses Steve, he tastes like chocolate ice cream, and Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

✪✪✪

For the next few weeks, they see each other nearly every day. Bucky feels bad about leaving Clint on his own so much, especially when Natasha is called off on another mission, but Clint just waves him off. They do live together, after all, and he still accompanies Bucky to his appointments at Stark Tower and fuels Tony’s teasing about Steve with random details he’s compiled. 

One afternoon, Steve and Bucky are strolling along the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, hands clasped between them, when Bucky decides it’s time to take another leap of faith. 

“Hey Steve,” he begins, trying and mostly failing to keep the nerves out of his voice. 

Steve definitely notices, but he doesn’t push it. “Yeah, Buck?”

“You wanna be my boyfriend?”

When Steve doesn’t say anything, Bucky feels his stomach drop. When he glances over, though, Steve’s grin is as brilliant as the sun above them. He squeezes Bucky’s hand. “Yeah, Buck. I do.”

Bucky barely has time to grin before Steve’s lips are crashing into his, hands anchored onto Bucky’s waist. Steve tugs them close together as they smile against each other, Steve trailing kisses from Bucky’s lips to his jaw, his cheek, even his nose. 

“Come home with me,” Steve murmurs against his ear, voice pitched low enough to send a shiver down Bucky’s spine. Bucky’s nodding before he even realizes he’s doing so. 

“Yeah. Yes. Let’s go.”

The ride back on Steve’s motorcycle is charged, Bucky pressed flush against Steve’s back. They’re barely parked before their lips meet again, frantic and desperate. 

“Public indecency, Stevie,” Bucky reminds him, and laughs when Steve makes a frustrated noise and drags him up the stairs.

As soon as the door to his place is open Steve slams Bucky against the wall, one thigh shoved between Bucky’s. He uses the other leg to shut the door as both his hand slide up into Bucky’s hair. Bucky groans when Steve’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, his thigh inching closer to where Bucky’s dick is straining against his jeans. When Steve grinds his hips down on Bucky’s thigh, Bucky’s head falls back against the wall and he lets out a breathy moan, thinking about the line of Steve’s cock pressed against his leg. Steve mouths at his throat, nipping and sucking and this is everything Bucky’s been waiting for and more. He gets Steve’s shirt over his head and trails his hands over any inch of skin he can get to.

Steve’s fingers brush the skin beneath Bucky’s shirt, but Bucky freezes when Steve makes to lift it up over his head, grabbing Steve’s wrists to stop him. Steve pulls back, looking at him in concern, slick and swollen lips ruining the image just a little. 

Bucky swallows. Shakes his head. His mind gets caught on thoughts of the scars across his chest and back, the burns, all the reminders of the broken way he used to be — and still feels, sometimes. He knows Steve would never say anything about it, but he’s not ready for Steve to see it. Not yet. 

Steve just nods, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Bucky’s lips. The tension doesn’t leave Bucky’s body, even as their kisses heat up again. Steve seems more hesitant than before and that just won’t do, so Bucky bucks his hips, grinding up against Steve, who bites down on his bottom lip again in retaliation. Bucky grins against his lips and finally allows himself to settle back into how much he wants this, feeling his body start to relax against Steve once more.

Steve’s hand hovers at Bucky’s fly. He pulls back enough to ask, voice ragged, “Is this okay?”

“Extremely,” Bucky reassures, voice nearly as rough.

Then Steve drops to his knees, tugging Bucky’s jeans down and nosing at Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s hands find as much purchase as they can in Steve’s short hair and when Steve takes him into his mouth Bucky forgets most everything for a while.

Bucky’s hips jerk as Steve coaxes him through orgasm with his tongue, lips still wrapped around him. He yanks Steve up for a kiss, tasting himself on Steve’s mouth, and shoves Steve’s jeans down to free his dick. He comes after a few strokes, moaning into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky grins when Steve all but collapses against him, breath hot on Bucky’s neck. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. 

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, pressing a sloppy kiss to Steve’s temple. “C’mon. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Steve kisses the underside of Bucky’s jaw before dragging him by the hand toward the bathroom, and Bucky whistles when he finally gets his first glimpse of Steve’s perfect naked ass.

✪✪✪

Natasha arrives home during the first movie night after Steve and Bucky define their relationship. They’re cuddling on the couch, Sam on the armchair, Clint spread out on the floor when the door opens. Clint leaps to his feet, scrambling to reach Natasha as she steps inside — and then he kisses her. 

Bucky blinks. Stares at them a moment. Natasha rests a light hand on Clint’s arm as she _kisses him back_ , and Sam clears his throat and says, “So, this is new.”

Bucky shakes himself and manages to ask, “When did this” — he makes a vague gesture toward Clint and Nat — “happen?”

The new couple (??) breaks apart, but Clint’s arm finds its way around Nat’s waist and stays there. “While you two were off being gross and figuring yourselves out” — Clint sends a pointed look toward Steve and Bucky; Steve tugs Bucky a little closer against him— “we did some figuring out of our own.” He adds a lecherous smile.

Bucky makes a gagging noise. “Too much information.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she seems happier than she had before she left. Lighter, aside from the fatigue from her mission. Clint’s got a glow about him as he looks down at Nat, holding her at his side, and Bucky can’t help but smile when Clint meets his eyes. 

“I’m happy for you,” Bucky says, and means it.

Clint looks back at Natasha. “Me too.” 

Then, of course, she shoves at him for being too sappy, and she drops her bags and toes off her shoes before dragging Clint to their spot on the floor.

“What’re we watching this time?” she asks. Bucky notes the way she doesn’t let go of Clint’s hand and he smiles again. 

“ _Beauty and the Briefcase_ ,” Steve supplies. 

“A Hilary Duff classic. Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is mostly fluff because i'm saving the Important Stuff for the next chapter (it would have just been too much for this one) but i hope it was fun to read anyway!
> 
> they finally hit third base so i mean.....


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Things are great for a while. Bucky’s never been so happy in his life. He finds ways for Steve to slot into his routine, having Steve join him on half his morning runs, and eats lunch with him on most days, dinner on others. Steve comes to every movie night and, on one memorable occasion, makes a dad joke so bad he gets the entirety of the popcorn bowl dumped over his head. (When Bucky kisses him goodnight, he tastes like butter and salt.)

He decides to bring Steve to his arm appointment one day, wanting to demonstrate his trust in Steve after still not being comfortable showing him his scars. He also figures he might as well throw Tony a bone, since he’s been threatening to stalk Steve down himself if he doesn’t get to meet who’s loosening Bucky up. 

Bucky steps into the lab first. Bruce begins calling out a greeting from his position in their yoga corner but cuts himself off as he starts to greet Clint when it’s not Clint who enters next. “Steve, I take it?” Bruce says instead, approaching with an extended hand and a smile. 

At this, Tony’s head whips up from where he’d been poring over something at his workbench on the other side of the room. Before this, he hadn’t even acknowledged their presence, which is pretty par for the course at this point. Tony stares at them. “Steve?” He hops off his stool and breezes over, looking over Steve’s entire form as Steve finishes his introductions with Bruce. “Damn, Barnes, no wonder you’re always so chill. This guy is built like a brick house. I can only imagine what he —”

“Standing right here, Stark,” Bucky cuts in, hoping to nip that train of thought in the bud before it blossoms into a mortifying flower. He looks back at Steve, who’s pink in the cheeks but otherwise not looking too offended yet. “I did warn you.”

Steve, too polite to acknowledge the way Bucky outlined in-depth exactly how tactless Tony Stark could be, subtly nods his agreement before turning his attention to Tony. “Hi. I’m Steve. The brick house.”

“I’m Tony Stark, but you knew that already. Thanks for keeping Megatron mellow. He’s been far more bearable since you’ve been around.”

“Again, standing right here,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “We gonna figure out that grinding noise, or what?”

Steve watches on in amusement as Tony continues to rib Bucky, though it quickly morphs into fascination as he watches the way Bucky’s arm opens up and Stark is able to work inside it. He even asks questions, which sets Tony off on a long explanation of the arm and how it works, which somehow Steve is able to follow. Tony keeps talking Steve’s ear off about neurons and wiring and alloys as Bucky transitions to his physical therapy with Bruce. 

(Steve manages to extricate himself a short ways into Bucky’s yoga session, though it takes Bruce to shoo Tony off Steve’s tail. Bucky gives Steve a bright smile when he wordlessly joins in as they’re tree-posing, and something tender squeezes in his chest at Steve’s affectionate look.)

✪✪✪

Finally recognizing he needs to make money outside of his military stipend, Bucky finds a job working part-time at a bookstore. Funnily enough, it’s owned by the woman who encouraged him when he first met Steve on base. Her name is Jane Foster and she’s a great boss. Steve enjoys chatting with her about her boyfriend, whose name Bucky learns is Thor. Bucky only ever sees one other employee aside from Jane, a spunky woman called Darcy, and when she’s around, well. He’s never bored.

He and Steve are at lunch one day after one of Bucky’s morning shifts when Steve gets a call from work. He steps away from their table to take it, leaving Bucky concerned — Steve’s supposed to be at home for at least twelve months after a deployment and it hasn’t even been six. There shouldn’t be anything pressing enough to require a call when he’s off-duty in the States. 

Steve comes back tense but not entirely distressed, at least, aside from the disappointed expression he’s doing a bad job of hiding. Bucky frowns, leaning forward as Steve sits down.

“Stevie? Is everything okay?”

“They need me to oversee a project,” Steve tells him, staring down at the tablecloth. He hesitates before continuing, “In DC. For a month.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, leaning back in his chair and letting out a breath. A month isn’t that long, right? They talked for nearly six months before seeing each other in person; this shouldn’t be too bad. Right?

But they’ve only been together for a few months, and this whole serious-relationship thing is still new to Bucky, especially with Steve, who he falls harder for every day. Steve, who already knows Bucky’s sandwich order by heart, who drives way too fast on his motorcycle and laughs when Bucky’s hold tightens around him in fear, who is way too good for a guy like Bucky to have nailed down and somehow keeps coming back anyway. 

Who’s to say DC won’t be just far enough away to challenge that, though? For all Bucky knows, he’s just convenient. He doesn’t want to think Steve sees him that way — hell, Steve would probably shake him if he heard these thoughts — but still, his mind is convincing when it wants to be. They still have so much to learn about each other. What if Steve finds someone better for him? Someone he can understand faster, who gives him their all and isn’t as broken?

“Bucky?” Steve says, a concerned frown knitting his eyebrows together, and Bucky gets the feeling this isn’t the first time Steve has tried to get his attention since he started spiraling.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, sheepish, and grabs his water to give himself something to do. He doesn’t quite know how to process Steve going away what feels like so soon after he got him. “When do you leave?”

Steve swallows, still not quite meeting Bucky’s eyes. “A week from tomorrow.”  
“Oh,” Bucky says again, quieter, nodding a little mechanically. 

“I can try to get out of it —”

“No.” Bucky finds Steve’s gaze then. “This is the army. There’s no way you’d be able to, anyway. S’just an extended business trip, right?” Bucky’s voice sounds hollow even to his own ears, so he’s not surprised when Steve doesn’t look entirely convinced. Steve exhales before reaching out to cover Bucky’s hand with his.

“It’s just a month, right? No problem.”

Bucky forces a smile and turns his hand to wrap his fingers around Steve’s, worried if he doesn’t remind himself to let go when it’s time, he won’t. “No problem.”

✪✪✪

Steve decides they should go out on an extravagant date before he leaves, because they haven’t truly treated each other yet. Bucky’s never treated himself, really, and since they’ve both been deployed for the past few years, there haven’t been a ton of opportunities to. They make a reservation at the nicest restaurant they can afford a few days before Steve’s scheduled to leave, though it means having to reschedule a previously-planned  _ Star Wars _ movie marathon. Clint waves him off when Bucky brings it up, guilty about having to change up their plans. 

“Go enjoy your boyf time,” Clint says. “I know him leaving is hard for you.”

Bucky nods, grateful Clint understands. And — “Never call him my ‘boyf’ again.”

Clint just laughs. “Go on. Go get ready with him like the disgustingly adorable couple you are.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but decides to head over to Steve’s place early anyway, splurging on an Uber rather than taking the subway because he’s in a suit, dammit, and he doesn’t want to grime it up before Steve gets the chance to see him.

When he reaches Steve’s door, Bucky takes a moment to run his fingers through his hair to perfect the “artfully tousled” look he’s going for, letting a smirk play at his lips as he knocks.

He’s rewarded with a wide-eyed look from Steve when he opens the door, drinking Bucky in. Steve’s button-down is open over his undershirt, a tie laying undone around his neck. Bucky licks his lips subconsciously as his eyes trace the way Steve’s tank top molds to the planes of his torso. 

Then he notices the phone at Steve’s ear.

“Just a second, Peggy,” Steve says, and leans forward to press a lingering kiss to Bucky’s lips. “Hey, gorgeous,” he greets Bucky, smiling down at him. Bucky smiles back, enthusiasm dampened a little by the knowledge Steve is talking to someone else. “I’ll be ready soon, give me just a few. Feel free to get comfortable.” Steve squeezes Bucky’s arm before pressing the phone back to his ear and turning away, saying, “Sorry, Pegs, Bucky just got here — alright, that’s enough out of you.” 

Bucky can hear Steve’s blush from here and he wants to laugh about it the way he would if it were anyone else, but Steve’s on the phone with Peggy — the other half of the only other serious relationship Steve has ever had. Bucky can hear Steve’s laughter bouncing off the walls of the hallway as Steve moves back toward his room, loud and open in a way that only comes from years of closeness. 

Bucky can’t remember making Steve laugh like that.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying to ground himself in the reality of being about to go out on an incredible date with the man who is better than anyone Bucky could ever hope for.

The man who, at this moment, is having a very friendly phone conversation with his ex while his current boyfriend wanders aimlessly around his apartment. 

Bucky hates himself for the way his skin crawls when he hears the easy familiarity Steve shares with Peggy. What right does Bucky have to take issue with it? Steve chose Bucky. He’s spending most of his free time with Bucky. He and Peggy are over in that way and have been for a long time.

Still, something about the tone of Steve’s voice when he speaks to her— it’s not something Bucky hears when Steve talks to him. He fights not to let it get to him but something about it rubs Bucky the wrong way. 

About fifteen minutes later Steve comes out, shirt fully buttoned and tie fully tied. He looks damn good, complemented by the gleeful smile on his face. There’s no phone in sight. Something in Bucky loosens.

“You look excited,” Bucky tells him as he approaches. Steve leans in to press a peck to Bucky’s cheek.

“I’m happy to be going to dinner with you.” Something warm blooms in Bucky’s chest at the thought of Steve glowing like this about spending the evening with him. Of course, that’s when Steve adds with a grin, “I also found out Peggy’s being brought in for the project in DC. We’ll be working together.”

Bucky’s smile freezes on his face and he’s glad Steve isn’t looking as he schools his expression into something far more supportive. “That’s great,” Bucky manages. Steve aims a smile at him.

“Ready?”

Bucky nods, even though he’s suddenly feeling a lot less ready than he had before — especially knowing Steve is leaving for four weeks in less than 48 hours.

✪✪✪

Bucky can’t shake the funk he’s in even as they sit hand in hand in the back of a rideshare on the way to the restaurant. Steve traces patterns on the back of Bucky’s hand as he looks out the window. Normally, Bucky would be leaning into Steve as they go, the nervousness in his chest connected to excitement rather than fear, but tonight he keeps their bodies separated.

He trusts Steve. He really does. What he doesn’t trust is how long his own position in Steve’s life will last once Steve is away from him again — not to mention spending extended time with the woman he’s told Bucky he was deeply in love with, once upon a time.

Bucky does his best to pull himself together and enjoy their meal. The food is good, despite being far overpriced. He’s almost managed to completely shove his fears to the back of his mind when their waitress comes by with her replacement so she can go on her dinner break, a man around their age who’s handsome in that frustrating, born-like-this way. Their new waiter flashes a smile half flirty and half hungry at Steve, which would have been fine were it not for the edge Bucky’s already perched on — and the way Steve returns the smile. It should be innocent, but there’s something in it, just like the way there’s something in Steve’s voice when he talks to Peggy, and Bucky’s not sure how much more of this he can take today. 

When the waiter asks if they’re looking to have any dessert, eyes only on Steve, Bucky refuses with more force than is probably necessary.

“Just the check, please,” he grits out, trying to get himself under control. They’ve been drinking wine and Bucky can’t hold his alcohol the way he used to, and he’s kind of tipsy and kind of anxious and he should’ve known this would be a bad idea as soon as he started feeling off at Steve’s place.

“Everything okay, Buck?” Steve asks, concern clear on his face, and that makes this so much worse. 

“Not feeling too great,” Bucky tells him, grateful that this, at least, isn’t a lie. Steve frowns but doesn’t press as the waiter brings their check back. Bucky pays because it keeps the guy’s attention away from Steve.

When the waiter brings their receipt back with his number on it and slides it toward Steve, Bucky snaps.

“You do realize that’s my boyfriend you’ve been coming on to all night, right?” he growls, standing up and glaring at the waiter, who turns wide eyes on him. “This is a  _ date _ . Read the fuckin’  _ room _ .”

Steve stands and slides his fingers around Bucky’s wrist, tugging him back and apologizing to the waiter before dragging Bucky outside with him.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Steve asks in his gentle but demanding way once they’re outside, cool air soothing the angry flush Bucky can feel on his face. He jerks his arm out of Steve’s grip.

“That guy was all over you,” Bucky spits, too far gone to dig himself out of this hole now. “He made eyes at you every time he came over.”

“He was probably just trying to get a better tip,” Steve tries. Bucky gives a vehement shake of his head.

“You encouraged him,” he says, feeling petty and small and unable to stop himself. “Every little smile you gave him, he was egged on, like you wanted him to keep goin’, keep flirtin’ —“

“I was just being polite, Buck. Wanna try telling me what this is  _ really  _ about?” Steve is being infuriatingly patient with him and he can’t take this—this  _ goodness _ , this  _ calmness _ , this not exploding back at Bucky when Bucky’s lashing out and definitely deserves it. “If you didn’t want to go out tonight, we could have waited. Instead you’ve been stewing all night. Spill it.”

“I just thought tonight was about us, and you’ve spent dinner ogling the waiter —”

Steve shuts him down. “No. You do not get to flip this right now. I already told you it was me being polite and you should be able to see that. At the very least you should believe me. But if you’re getting this jealous over nothing, I think we have bigger problems to work through.”

“What about Peggy, huh?” Bucky bursts out, fists clenching. Steve recoils like he’s been slapped and takes a step backward. “I heard you on the phone with her, and I just — the way you talk to her — How am I s’posed to know you aren’t still hung up on her? That you aren’t gonna go back first chance you get?”

“Is that what this is about?” Disbelief colors Steve’s face until finally Bucky sees anger start to seep in. “We’re  _ friends _ ,” Steve snaps. “The romance ended years ago, as I know you know. But if you’re taking issue with me being  _ friends  _ with—”

“It’s not that you’re friends!” Bucky nearly shouts. A group about to enter the restaurant slows to watch them before one of them hurries the others inside. Bucky takes a harsh breath. “It’s the closeness you have. We don’t — you aren’t like that with me. It makes me —” He exhales with force, shoving his hands through his hair and not quite looking at Steve. “I don’t know if you’re invested in this — us — the way I am.” 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth Bucky wants to take them back. He can’t, though, and underneath everything it’s how he really feels, so Bucky just waits, breathing hard. 

Steve stares at him, stunned into silence. His whole body is taut as a bowstring. Bucky thinks that’s probably a very bad sign.

After a few beats of quiet, Steve says, deceptively calm, “If you can’t see that I’m committed, I don’t know how much hope there is for us.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he keeps his mouth shut, jaw clenching and unclenching. He won’t meet Steve’s eyes.

Steve nods with a finality Bucky doesn’t want to think about.  “Okay. That’s it, then. Goodnight, Bucky.” And he turns on his heel and walks away. 

Bucky wants to scream as he watches Steve leave, but he can’t, so he spins around and storms off in the other direction.

He slams his metal fist into a brick wall on his way home. He has to give it to Stark — the brick wall leaves hardly a scratch on his fingers.

It just doesn’t help the way his chest aches.

As soon as he’s back in his room Bucky remembers there’s approximately 36 hours until Steve is going to DC.

This time when he punches the wall it’s with his flesh hand and it most definitely leaves a mark. He cradles his bloody knuckles against his chest as he slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, staring at the carpet and realizing he’s just fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

✪✪✪

Steve boards the train for DC two days later and neither he nor Bucky reach out to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst!! the first Actual Angst in basically this entire story and it's almost at the end! guess the other shoe had to drop at some point, right?
> 
> thank you for reading! ♥


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Bucky goes to the diner by himself the night Steve leaves. Linda doesn’t ask him why he’s alone or why he’s down, just fixes him an extra sweet milkshake and sits on the other side of the booth, chattering about the latest kooky customers she’s had. When he leaves she doesn’t let him pay, just wraps him in a tight hug and doesn’t let go for awhile.

“Whatever it is, you’ll get through it,” she murmurs against his hair, and he squeezes her a little tighter for it. She brushes the wetness off his face with her thumbs and kisses his temple when he leaves.

✪✪✪

He should’ve known Sam would show up when Bucky missed Tuesday’s meeting. Bucky hasn’t missed a meeting since he first got his prosthetic. 

He’s been wallowing in self-pity since he got home from his date, and Clint, the incredible friend that he is, hasn’t gotten on Bucky about it even though they both know Bucky’s the asshole here. He’s just lucky Natasha hasn’t been around — she’d kick his ass once for what he did, and again for how he’s acting now.

Bucky doesn’t even have the chance to so much as get dressed before Sam is standing in the living room, Clint looking a little chagrined behind him.

“Noticed you weren’t at the meeting this morning,” Sam says in the carefully steady voice he uses to avoid betraying any of what he’s thinking. “What’s your excuse?”

Because Bucky’s still angry at himself, exhausted from hardly sleeping, and apparently has very little sense of how to treat other people, he retorts, “You make house calls for all your absentee vets?”

Sam does look mad now, taking a step into the room. “Don’t you dare pull that shit on me, Barnes,” he warns. “I know you fucked up. I don’t know what drove you to do it, but you did, and there’s no going back on that now. But that does  _ not  _ mean you should sacrifice everything you worked for up to this point. You’ve made noticeable progress in the group and throwing that all away over a spat you got into with your boyfriend is reckless and stupid.” Bucky blinks. He feels like he’s been slapped. The truth sure is hard to swallow sometimes. “You’ve had a few days to indulge yourself in the consequences of your self-sabotage. I’m ending that now. Get up, get dressed. You’re coming with me to a meeting in an hour.”

“I tried to get him to give you a week,” Clint pipes up from behind Sam, who turns back to glare at him. Clint holds his hands up in surrender but doesn’t say anything else.

Bucky, mostly just stubborn at this point, tries to muster up a glare at Sam. “I can take care of myself.”

“According to how you’ve been acting lately, you can’t. You had to establish a new routine when Steve came into your life and I think it’s affected you more than you realize. Now come on. I say this as your group leader and also as your friend: You have to take care of yourself first.”

In spite of how badly Bucky wants to keep wallowing, Sam’s words ring true. The whole time he’s had Steve he’s been willfully ignoring areas of his life he’d finally established into a pattern, because Steve has been a beacon of light he was using to drown out everything else.

He should’ve known it wouldn’t last. He just wishes it hadn’t been him causing the damage.

✪✪✪

Bucky cleans himself up and goes with Sam to the meeting. They don’t talk on the way there, and he doesn’t contribute at the meeting, but he has to admit there’s something reassuring about being surrounded by people like him. He knows he needs it, even if he was being stubborn about it, and he appreciates Sam getting him up off his ass to go.

They wind up eating sandwiches for lunch in Prospect Park. Sam makes Bucky buy, which Bucky thinks is fair after Sam all but dragged him out to pull his life together. 

“Thank you,” Bucky says as he picks at the remnants of his turkey on rye. It comes out quieter than he’d intended, but Sam hears nonetheless.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam takes another bite of his roast beef on wheat and finishes chewing before speaking again. “I’m friends with both of you, you know. He told me what you said.”

Bucky stares at a mama duck walking her ducklings nearby and sighs, deflating. He doesn’t have anything to say to defend himself so he lets his silence speak for him.

“I swear, for men who are supposed to have each other’s backs in combat, soldiers are some of the worst communicators I know.” Sam shakes his head. “I’m not gonna tell you how to handle yourself, because you’re a grown ass man in a grown ass relationship, but coming from my place as Steve’s friend — you should’ve just told him how you were feeling.”

“I didn’t know I was feeling that way,” Bucky snaps, and then instantly shrinks back, wincing at his own tone. “Sorry. I just — the idea of him leavin’, and not knowin’ why he keeps me around anyway, and the casual intimacy he has with Peggy... It all just —” Bucky stops, sighing again. “I love him, and I don’t know if I’m enough for him,” he mumbles, quiet.

“That’s not an excuse,” Sam reminds him, though his voice is gentle.

“I know.”

“Why don’t you tell him any of this?”

“He’s in DC.”

Sam levels him with a Look. “Have you tried calling him?” Bucky shakes his head. “Texted him?” Bucky shakes his head again. “Emailed?” Another shake. “Jesus, Barnes, did you even try to get in contact with Steve at all?”

Bucky shakes his head, shoulders hunching even farther in on himself. “I thought he wouldn’t want me to,” Bucky says. 

Sam lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This is unnecessary angst. At least send him a text. Let him know you want to talk to him. Steve’s impulsive and sometimes that means he’s decisive, but I don’t think he wants to be done with you forever.”

Bucky tosses some bits of bread out for the ducks. He watches them for a few beats before responding. “Okay.”

✪✪✪

_ hey, steve. look — i’m sorry for what i said. i’m sorry for how i acted. call me when you can? _

_ i miss you. _

✪✪✪

A week passes. Bucky goes back to his pre-Steve routine (with the addition of his job) and attends the VA meeting the following Tuesday morning.

“Anything?” Sam asks when Bucky arrives just after him and starts on helping him set the chairs out in a circle. Bucky shakes his head, shoulders slumped. Steve left him on read, which adds insult to injury, Bucky thinks.

✪✪✪

Bucky’s angsting one night later that week when Clint says around a mouthful of cereal, “You should try sending him a letter.”

Bucky looks up from where he’s been pushing vegetables around in the remains of his chicken noodle soup. “What?”

“That’s how you two met, right? Isn’t the grand romantic gesture how these things usually get resolved?”

“I think we’ve been watching too many romantic comedies.”

“Think about it,” Clint argues. “Steve’s a bit of a romantic, isn’t he? The big date was his idea. So send him a letter that talks about how sorry you are, what a dick you’ve been, and ask for his forgiveness.” He shoves another spoonful of cereal in his mouth before his eyes widen as a metaphorical light bulb illuminates over his head. “Oh! You could write a letter telling him in a vague way how sorry you are, and if he really wants to see it for himself, go to a certain location and you’ll be there. You should always apologize in person, anyway. Now  _ that’s  _ a romantic gesture.”

Bucky snorts, thinking the idea is nonsense at first. As he lets it sit, though, he realizes Clint may actually be onto something. 

✪✪✪

It takes a little help from Sam, but Bucky manages to put a plan together. Jane understands completely when he explains why he’ll need a few days off from work — she tells him to take as much time as he needs. She’s been meaning to find more hours for her third employee anyway. (Bucky tries not to seem surprised she’s got anyone other than himself and Darcy working for her.)

_ He’s usually in his room by 9 _ , Sam texts Bucky.  _ Go get ‘im, tiger. _

Bucky hasn’t been nervous like this in a while. His hands — well, the flesh one — shake as he shoves the folded sheet under the door, giving it a few taps with his metal fist for good measure. 

Then he takes a seat to the side of the door and waits, hoping Steve will read the letter.

✪✪✪

_ Steve, _

_ I really messed up with you. I was in a bad place and I lashed out and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to have me attack you like that. I know you’re kind. I know it would be impossible for any of your exes to not want to be friends with you (unless, of course, they’re terrible people, in which case: good riddance). That doesn’t make it wrong, and I have no place to get in the way of that. Frankly, I don’t want to. _

_ What it comes down to is this: I’m scared. I don’t know how to handle how much I feel about you and I’m scared I’m not enough for you, because you’re the best man I ever met, and I’ve got a lot of shit going on you haven’t seen yet. I’m afraid you’ll see those parts of me and realize you were wrong to be with me in the first place.  _

_ I trust you. I know you don’t want to hurt me. Believe it or not, I don’t want to hurt you, either. There’s just a lot going on in my head and it all crashed together in a way that revolved around you, and that meant I came at you, and I shouldn’t have.  _

_ But hey, don’t take my written word for it. Open the door and I’ll tell you myself. _

_ Bucky _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WILL STEVE OPEN THE DOOR? stay tuned to find out!
> 
> thank you to anyone who keeps reading and keeps commenting. i have gotten some of my favorite comments lately and it really just gives me that warm fuzzy feeling knowing there are people keeping up with this story as i work on it. y'all are the best. much love to you.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Bucky waits what feels like an agonizingly long time. Enough time passes for him to start feeling like this was a stupid plan to begin with. He’s not even sure Steve is here. He also doesn’t know if Steve will read the letter, or if he’ll just throw it away.

How long is he supposed to stay? How much time is he supposed to give Steve before he just leaves? He’s suddenly acutely aware of how little he actually planned this out. This is what he gets for following Clint’s advice.

Then the door is wrenched open and Steve stands there, looking a bit worse for the wear. His hair is messy, sticking up on one side. There are bags beneath his eyes, a little red-rimmed as he stares at Bucky, who swallows against the lump in his throat. 

“Bucky,” Steve says, and his voice comes out hoarse. His expression is unreadable.

Bucky elects to just launch into what he’d prepared to say, hoping Steve opened the door because he’s willing to listen. “Steve, I’m so sorry. I — well, like I wrote, I’m scared, ‘cause I don’t know how to deal with what I’m feeling and I don’t want to lose you.” His voice breaks at the end of the sentence. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath before barreling on. “God, I don’t want to lose you. I love you, Stevie. I know I gotta get better at showing it. I know I gotta trust you. I do trust you. I’m sorry.”

Steve looks at him for a moment, expressionless, just watching. Bucky feels his shoulders drop. 

“It’s not an excuse,” Steve says after a moment, voice carefully neutral, and a startled laugh escapes from Bucky’s throat.

“That’s what Sam said.”

And then Steve is lurching forward to bring Bucky into his arms, holding their bodies together chest to toes. Bucky presses his face against Steve’s neck, arms wrapped tight around him. 

“I’m sorry too, Buck,” Steve whispers against Bucky’s hair. “I should have given you the chance to explain yourself instead of just running away. I was just so mad, and defensive, and —”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says, tightening his hold on Steve. “I was an asshole.”

Steve lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, you were. But I don’t wanna lose you either, Bucky.” He leans back enough to look Bucky in the eyes. “It’s just you. I love you.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or the high stress levels, or any number of things — but Bucky can feel his eyes start to sting at the words. He smiles, though, for what feels like the first time in too long. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asks then, nerves creeping back in.

Steve doesn’t answer, just presses their lips together, and it’s been less than two weeks but Bucky’s really missed having Steve so close. He’s warm and solid against Bucky and Bucky drinks him in like a man who’s been stranded in the desert finally reaching water. 

✪✪✪

Steve invites Bucky into his room and while Bucky’s still riding the high of the knowledge that _Steve_ _loves him back_ , a sense of awkwardness returns. 

Steve seems to feel it too, because he sighs, stepping toward the bed and gesturing Bucky to follow as he sits down on the edge. Bucky does, though he keeps a small space between them, not wanting to push his luck. He tries not to be disappointed when Steve doesn’t immediately fill it.

“I love you,” Steve begins, and something flutters inside Bucky when he hears the words again, “but I have to make sure this is really okay. I have to know you’re fine with me and Peggy, because she’s one of my best friends.”

Bucky glances up to meet Steve’s eyes. “I swear, Steve, my freak-out was a one-time thing. I know how important she is to you. I won’t ever stand in the way of that. And I won’t get mad about you smilin’ at cute waiters, either.”

Steve knocks their shoulders together, relief clear on his face. “I never said he was cute.”

“Yeah, well, he definitely was. Think that’s part of why I was so nervous about it.”

“Not as cute as you, though.” Bucky wrinkles his nose and Steve leans in to kiss his cheek. “You’re really alright, though?”

Bucky nods, slipping his fingers through Steve’s. “Yeah. Lashing out at you was a sign I need more help than I’ve been getting. Sam’s helping me find someone who will work with me outside of group.”

Steve squeezes his hand, a smile spreading across his face. “Good. Because I really want you to meet Peggy.”

“Stevie, I’d be honored.”

✪✪✪

Steve lets Bucky stay with him for the night, which is good, because Bucky hadn’t thought far enough ahead in his planning to book a hotel room. As he’d waited for Steve to open the door, he’d hoped if it went well he’d stay with Steve, and if not, well, he’d get on a train and come right back home. 

It’s really nice to sleep next to Steve again.

When Bucky wakes up he has missed calls and unread messages from Sam, Clint, and Natasha. He opens the one from Natasha first, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else.

_Hope you fixed what you broke with Steve. I want him to keep coming to movie nights._

Bucky replies, _has clint been telling you everything you missed?_

_Only the drama._

Bucky snorts, flicking through messages from Clint telling him since he’s not home Clint hopes he’s getting some and not dead. Bucky shoots off a quick _not dead_ and leaves the rest to Clint’s imagination.

Sam’s messages are similar:

_How’d it go?_

_You know what, if you’re not answering, I don’t think I want to know._

_Clint has confirmed you aren’t home. I think that’s a good thing._

Bucky sends, _definitely a good thin_ g, and laughs when Sam sends back a gif of a toddler dancing. 

Steve stirs beside him then, lifting his head to fix sleepy eyes on Bucky. The corners of his lips lift into a slow smile.

“Good morning,” Bucky says, leaning over to press a kiss to Steve’s bare shoulder. Steve sits up and stretches while Bucky enjoys the view.

After Steve lets his arms flop back onto the comforter, his smile widens as he gazes at Bucky. “It is when you’re around.”

Bucky shoves at him, rolling his eyes at the sappiness. Steve retaliates by tossing a pillow at him and soon enough they’ve started wrestling each other on the hotel bed. 

Not much later there’s a knock at the door. Bucky pops his head up from where Steve’s got him pinned against the bed, knees on either side of Bucky’s hips, which is making it difficult to remember they’re easing back into things again.

“Expecting someone?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow.

A crease appears between Steve’s eyebrows. “Not that I—” Realization dawns on his face. “Oh boy. Um, well, Peggy and I were supposed to get breakfast this morning.”

Bucky blinks. “And? I told you it’s all good, Steve.”

“No, it’s just —” The knock comes again, more insistent this time. Steve scrambles to find a shirt to tug on. “This isn’t really how I wanted you two to meet.”

Bucky takes a second to let his eyes rake over Steve, with his wild hair, a flush in his cheeks from the way they wrestled, and slightly out of breath. In a way, he looks thoroughly debauched, and Bucky cracks up, head tilted back as he laughs loud and true.

“If you don’t get the door, I will,” he warns, grinning as he disentangles himself from the blankets and struts toward the door. He at least already has a shirt on, but he tugs jeans on over his boxers and is barely able to zip them up in his haste to reach the door first before Steve’s scrambling to get ahead of him.

“Steve, come on, open up. You can keep moping after you eat a balanced meal —” Peggy stops when the door opens, and okay, so Bucky can already see how Steve fell in love with her. Even at this early an hour, she looks perfect. Her hair is expertly twisted into brown curls behind her head, a perfect eyebrow raised, lips painted a stunning shade of red. She takes in the state of the two of them and says, “Was I interrupting something?”

Steve blushes a deep crimson and tries to splutter out that no, she was not. Bucky can’t keep the grin off his face as he steps forward and extends his flesh hand toward her, though he keeps his metal arm hidden behind Steve, resting it on the small of his back.

“You must be Peggy,” Bucky tells her, impressed with the strength in her grip as she shakes his hand. This is not a woman to be trifled with. 

“Bucky, I take it?” Peggy asks, eyes flicking toward Steve. 

“That’s me. It’s good to meet you. Anyone who can handle Steve already has my respect.”

Steve makes an indignant noise and aims an elbow at Bucky’s ribs, but Bucky dodges with ease. A smile spreads across Peggy’s face for the first time since she opened the door. She looks at Bucky but is clearly talking to Steve as she says, “I think I like this one.”

Steve lifts his head from where he’d been glaring at the ground, a smile rapidly brightening up his features. “Me too.”

✪✪✪

Peggy lets them finish getting dressed before they all head down to breakfast together. Now that Bucky can see her and Steve interacting in person, he knows he never had anything to stress about, even on his worst day. Steve and Peggy have a very special relationship — that much is clear — but the understanding they share is deeply platonic. It reminds him a lot of his relationship with Natasha, actually. Thinking about that helps ease what little doubt remains in his mind.

What also helps is the way Steve absently reaches over to rest his hand on Bucky’s knee as he talks, smiling when Bucky catches his eye while he discusses some work thing with Peggy. Bucky’s just happy to be included in this at all, so he rests his hand over Steve’s and leans into him, grateful for Steve and his acknowledgment and maybe showing off just a little for Peggy. From the knowing look she shoots him, she knows exactly what he’s doing, but she smirks at them anyway and has the grace not to comment.

As they’re finishing up and beginning to head out, Peggy says, “Next time I’m in New York you’ll have to meet my girlfriend, Angie. She’s an actress — a pretty amazing one, too. Right now she’s starring in a play off-Broadway.”

“Let us know the name of the play, and we’ll have to go see it when I get back home,” Steve promises as he follows Bucky out of the booth. “I’d love to meet her.”

“Send her my love, would you?” Peggy says, looking between the two of them. “I still haven’t been able to see her in it. Things are difficult when you’re separated by an ocean.”

Bucky nods, thinking about how tough it was to have Steve so far away when their friendship was starting to pick up. He leans into Steve when his arm slides around Bucky’s waist. 

This is when Bucky realizes he’s forgotten to keep his hand in his pocket as he stood up, meaning his metal fingers are in full view. He swallows, noting the exact moment Peggy notices them too. He’s spent the morning with her, he knows she’s a good woman, and he hates the way his breathing speeds up when her eyes flick up from his metal fingers again, hiding them away as soon as she’s not looking. She seemed to approve of him and Steve before, but what will she think when she sees he has a weapon attached to his body? Or, worse — what will she think about him having a metal limb replacement at all? His heartbeat picks up speed and for a moment all he hears is the blood rushing in his ears. Steve’s arm tightens around his waist and he anchors himself in Steve’s touch, flesh fingers fisting in the back of Steve’s shirt.

To her credit, Peggy doesn’t even bat an eyelash. She does say, “Impressive technology. I’ve never seen a prosthetic that moves with such ease.”

Bucky has to clear the lump from his throat before answering, voice a little strained. “It’s a prototype.”

Her eyes are soft but not pitying, and not at all disapproving. Bucky likes her more with each passing moment. “Well, I’m glad to see it appears to be working well for you. It really is extraordinary.”

“It is,” Steve agrees, kissing Bucky’s temple. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut and he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. It helps to know Steve’s right there beside him.

“I best be off, then,” Peggy says, saving them from the awkwardness of letting the moment continue. “It was nice to meet you, Bucky.”

A genuine smile finds its way onto Bucky’s face as he opens his eyes again. “You too, Peggy. I hope to see you again sometime.”

Peggy’s eyes sparkle as she smiles. “Absolutely.” She presses feather-light kisses to both their cheeks before heading off, head held high as she weaves through the other hotel guests. 

“You good?” Steve murmurs into Bucky’s ear. Bucky nods, finally coming back into himself, his breaths evening out. “Good. Because I had something in mind for today.”

Steve takes Bucky’s hand and tugs him along back to the hotel room, a wicked grin on his face.

✪✪✪

They haven’t even closed the door yet before Steve’s covering Bucky’s mouth with his own, hot and insistent. Bucky smirks, sliding the door shut with his foot and letting his hands rest on the band of skin between Steve’s T-shirt and the waistband of his jeans. Steve trails kisses along his jawline, down to the hollow of his throat, over his collarbone. Bucky tugs Steve flush against him, finding his mouth and locking their lips together again so he can revel in the feeling of Steve’s tongue against his own.

Steve reaches back to tug his shirt up over his head. Bucky drinks in the view, eyes sweeping over Steve’s pecs, the ridges of his abs, the dip of his Adonis belt down into his jeans. Steve’s hands drag over Bucky’s chest over his shirt, respecting Bucky’s boundaries, and Bucky decides it’s finally time to know what Steve’s bare skin feels like against his. He presses a sloppy peck against Steve’s lips before bringing Steve’s hands beneath the hem of his own shirt, ignoring the knot of fear he can feel settling in his stomach. He knows Steve won’t judge him for what he sees. He just has to actually let him.

“Are you sure?” Steve murmurs, his hands hovering over Bucky’s waist, seeking out Bucky’s gaze for confirmation. Bucky’s heart swells. Damn, he loves this guy. He nods, and Steve’s hands rest lightly on his skin, sliding up over his torso. They kiss for a while like that, leisurely, like they have all the time in the world — and then Steve walks them backward toward the bed, tugging Bucky along by the waist. Steve sits on the edge, pulling Bucky in to stand between his parted legs. 

He watches carefully for Bucky’s reaction as he pulls Bucky’s shirt up and over his head. Bucky swallows, bracing himself for Steve’s reaction.

Steve gives him a moment, eyes only on his face, before determining Bucky’s steady enough to let Steve take the rest of him in. Bucky’s whole torso is marred by scars of varying shapes and sizes from where he was hit with shrapnel during the explosion — but the worst of it is the burns covering much of his left side. His back isn’t as bad, but the burns reach back there too. It’s a constant reminder of the experience, watching his friends die, the pain of losing his arm. He has new scar tissue where the metal connects to his skin, too, which only serves as a signifier for the patchwork person he’s become. 

Bucky risks a glance down at Steve when his fingers run lightly over the scarring. He doesn’t look disgusted, though; if anything, he looks more worried about making Bucky uncomfortable. Bucky is wary but discomfort is the farthest thing from his mind. 

When Steve presses his lips to the place where Bucky’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder, Bucky’s breath hitches. When he pulls Bucky closer with a hand on Bucky’s burned side and doesn’t recoil away, Bucky feels the betraying sting of tears in his eyes. Steve’s gaze is gentle and openly fond as he meets Bucky’s again.

“Buck,” he breathes. “You’re —”

“If you tell me I’m beautiful, I’m gonna have to punch you,” Bucky interrupts, though his warning is dampened by the waver in his voice. Steve laughs.

“Fine. You are, though.” He sheds his pants and moves backward up the bed, tugging on Bucky’s metal hand to get him to follow. Bucky crawls up over him, again settled between Steve’s open legs, only this time more of Steve is on display. A slow grin spreads across Bucky’s lips.

“So, your idea for today,” Bucky says, licking his lips as he knocks Steve’s knees farther apart, eyes on the line of Steve’s erection against his boxer-briefs.

“It starts with you getting out of your jeans.” Bucky complies, tossing his pants to the side. Steve tugs him down to thrust his hips up against Bucky’s, both of them letting out groans of pleasure at the much-anticipated friction. Steve nips at Bucky’s earlobe before continuing, “It ends with me finally getting to know what it feels like for you to fuck me.”

Bucky whines against Steve, capturing his lips in a searing kiss and grinding down against him again, mouthing at Steve’s throat when his head falls back against the headboard. Bucky grins when he slides Steve’s underwear down his legs and throws it off the side of the bed, freeing his gorgeous, hard cock.

Steve laughs when Bucky produces a condom and small package of lube from the pocket of his discarded jeans.

“Optimistic, were you?” Steve asks. 

“Nah,” Bucky responds, pleased with the hungry way Steve watches Bucky remove his own boxers. “Just keep these on me for emergencies.”

“Emergencies, huh? What kind of —”

Steve cuts himself off as Bucky inserts one finger, effectively shutting him up. He doesn’t speak much more as Bucky works on prepping him. 

When he first thrusts inside Steve, Bucky thinks he’s never been so turned on in his life. Steve’s flushed all the way down to his chest, his mouth open, eyes closed, head tilted back. His moans are the most delicious thing Bucky’s ever heard. He urges Bucky to move and after that Bucky doesn’t do much thinking.

✪✪✪

They don’t leave the room for the rest of the day.

✪✪✪

Bucky goes home when the weekend is over, because Steve does still have two weeks of work left to do here, but he’s sent off at the train station with a lingering kiss and a promise to Skype soon. 

“I love you,” Steve says when the final boarding call for Bucky’s train comes. Bucky grins and kisses Steve again.

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Steve smiles. “See you soon.”

✪✪✪

Bucky comes home to an outdated meme of a cake reading _CONGRATS ON THE SEX_ and he immediately video calls Steve, laughing at Steve’s beet-red expression and the way he hides his face in his hands. 

Joke’s on him, though, because when Natasha says, “Oh no, sorry, that’s for us,” Bucky’s in a similar position. 

“I know you two finally got yourselves figured out,” Bucky says, pointing between Clint and Natasha, “but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about it.”

“Tough shit, Barnes, we had to hear about you and Rogers for months,” Clint points out.

“But you didn’t _know_ Steve,” Bucky argues. “I know both of you. I don’t want to know more about you _together_ than I absolutely have to.”

Natasha ignores both of them and cuts into the cake, effectively derailing the conversation. Clint’s got the I’m-up-to-something look on his face, though, and Bucky’s sure he’s in for it later.

He’s right, of course; that night, Clint comes in and flops on Bucky’s bed as Bucky’s about to call Steve, a terrifying grin on his face. 

“Did you know Natasha has—”

Bucky flails, hands flying up to his ears. “ _No_ , no thank you, I don’t want any of this —”

Clint just cackles, clutching at his stomach as he laughs. Bucky glares at him until he catches his breath. “Nat would kill me if I actually said anything,” Clint admits between bouts of giggles. “But your reaction is everything I had hoped for, so thank you.”

Bucky doesn’t stop glaring. Clint rolls off his bed, and is on his way out when he turns back toward Bucky. 

“I’m glad you worked everything out with Steve,” Clint says. Most of the mirth has left his face. “I think he’s really good for you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s look finally softens, and he smiles. “Thanks. I’m glad you and Nat finally realized you’ve been circling each other for years. Who made the first move?”

“I did, actually.” Clint’s chest puffs with pride. “I think it was because of what you said on the fire escape a few months ago. It got me thinking about how much I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity because I waited so long, you know?”  
Bucky nods. “Yeah.” Then he throws a pillow at Clint, who shrieks and ducks to avoid it but takes it right in the face anyway. “Now get out so I can video chat with my boyfriend.”

Clint does, but not before throwing the pillow back at him.

✪✪✪

When Steve comes back they all make him choose the movie for movie night, and he goes with a Melissa Joan Hart monstrosity called _Holiday in Handcuffs_ because Christmas is just around the corner and nothing quite beats awful holiday rom-coms to get you in the Christmas spirit.

Steve and Bucky cuddle on the couch, Clint and Nat lay with their sides pressed together on the floor, and Sam finally brings over his mysterious partner, a striking woman named Maria whom Natasha introduced him to. 

As the movie plays, Steve threads his fingers through the metal fingers of Bucky’s left hand, and Bucky thinks, looking around at everyone here, he’s finally found what home is supposed to feel like again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there you have it! the boys are back and better than ever!
> 
> chapter 16 is an epilogue. tying up a loose end you may still be wondering about... 
> 
> (or you forgot. either way i'm gonna write it.)
> 
> thanks for sticking with this, friends. i appreciate all of you!
> 
> p.s. fun fact - i watch holiday in handcuffs just about every year because it's trash and i love it with my entire heart. highly recommend if you like ABC Family christmas movie heterosexual rom-com garbage.


	16. Epilogue

“I have a surprise for you,” Steve says the week of Christmas, making Bucky instantly suspicious. He knows Steve well enough now to be sure whatever it is will be incredibly cheesy or silly enough to leave Bucky’s head in his hands. Still, Steve looks really excited about this one, so Bucky goes with it.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“Not here. Grab your shoes; we’re going on an adventure.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but does at Steve tells him, following him to his bike even though it’s freezing outside and the wind bites through his clothes with frozen determination. Steve may run hot as a space heater and step off the bike unfazed even after a ride in the winter, but Bucky is man enough to admit when he’s freezing his balls off. Still, he holds tight to Steve as they venture onto the icy streets.

They don’t go very far. As Steve parks, Bucky frowns a little. “This is Sam’s house,” he remarks. “I hate to break it to you, Stevie, but I do see Sam pretty often. His company is not much of a surprise for me.”

Steve manages an elbow straight into his ribs while they’re both still sitting on the Harley. Bucky huffs out a laugh, shoving lightly at Steve as he tosses his leg over the bike to stand up and shake some feeling back into his appendages. 

Steve leads them up to Sam’s door, knocking in a pattern Bucky is sure has to be a code. It doesn’t ease Bucky’s suspicions, especially if Sam’s involved. That guy is crafty when he wants to be — and he’s known Steve a lot longer than Bucky has. Their minds together could produce some terrifying results.

Sam opens the door just enough to see half his body. He’s got a smile on his face resting somewhere between knowing and smug and Bucky’s worried he’s about to get punked. “Rogers, Barnes,” Sam greets. “Come on in.”

He steps aside, opening the door a bit wider. Steve gestures Bucky first. Bucky enters with no small amount of trepidation —

—  and almost falls to his knees when he sees what’s waiting for him inside.

“Sarge!” Dum Dum Dugan exclaims, spotting him first. His face breaks out into a massive grin beneath his trademarked mustache and others’ heads whip around from where they’re gathered by Sam’s kitchen counter, beers already in hand. Dernier and Morita whoop when they see him as Dugan comes over, and Bucky’s frozen in place, staring at the squadmates he hasn’t seen in over a year. They’re all watching him, smiling, whole, and every one of them he left behind is here. Bucky doesn’t know whether to grin or burst into tears.

Steve’s hand comes to rest on his back, warm and solid. Bucky leans into his touch but he doesn’t have long to let it comfort him before Dugan’s pulling him in for a bear hug. He claps Bucky on the back, _hard_ , but Bucky knows it’s his way of showing he cares. When they separate Dugan’s still grinning.

“Lookin’ good, Barnes,” Gabe comments as he and the rest of the Commandos hop up to say their hellos.

“I don’t know, I’d only give him about fifteen percent more than before,” Morita says, gesturing vaguely toward Bucky’s left arm. This finally breaks Bucky’s trance enough for him to let out a startled — and a little bit strangled — laugh. All at once he’s overwhelmed not just with relief but with pure joy the Howling Commandos are standing here and taking the piss out of him, just like they always did.

“I’d say at least twenty percent better,” Bucky says as he slips his glove off and flexes his fingers, the metal catching the light and bouncing it onto the walls of Sam’s living room. Part of him is concerned about their reaction, sure, but these men have seen him at his absolute worst. Hell, they’ve seen him nearly dead. He’s less worried about their judgment than anyone else’s, because he knows for a fact they won’t think negatively of him for this.

Case in point: Falsworth lets out a low whistle when he sees. Dernier’s eyes go wide. “Is that — is that a robotic prosthetic?” he asks, leaning in for a closer look.

Bucky nods, flipping his hand palm-up. “This baby is a Stark original.”

“You got _Tony Stark_ to give you a prosthetic?” Dugan asks, awed.

“I have friends in high places.”

“He has Natasha,” Sam clarifies. The Commandos all share a knowing _ahh_. (They’ve shared a few memorable evenings with her — not to mention Bucky’s stories.)

“Way to steal my thunder, Wilson,” Bucky says, shaking his head in disapproval. “I was gonna look so cool.”  
“Don’t worry. I bet Rogers still thinks you’re cool,” Morita tells him, jerking his chin at Steve, who’s been standing as a silent reinforcement for him the whole time. Steve shrugs, shooting a quick look at Bucky before making a noncommittal noise and looking back at the Commandos. Bucky’s about to be mildly offended when he remembers Steve fought alongside them too. Something warm settles in his chest when he thinks about Steve already being a part of this family.

“He watches too many romantic comedies to be cool,” Steve says.

Maybe Bucky doesn’t like Steve being a part of this family so much after all. He presses a hand to his heart, giving an exaggerated gasp. “I can’t believe you’d out me like this, Rogers.”

Steve looks over at him, a calculating glint in his eye, before he glances back toward Morita. “He’s pretty cute, though.”

All the Commandos, Bucky included, groan at this. Steve just laughs.

The evening continues in a similar fashion. They drink beers together and catch up on each other’s lives as best they can without getting too heavy. The squad got back a few weeks prior; Sam found out they were around and let Steve know. Steve is the reason they all wound up here. 

“You know how it is with deployment, too — we’re back for at least a year, so you’ll be seeing our faces a lot more whether you like it or not,” Dugan warns. Neither Bucky nor Steve mind that idea much at all.

✪✪✪

“I can’t believe you were writing sappy love letters to Rogers and we never knew. We all thought you’d be perfect for each other,” Morita remarks as Bucky and Steve are saying their goodbyes to everyone.

“You should’ve heard us when we had Steve around. There was a lot of speculation about what would’ve happened had we had both of you,” Falsworth adds.

“Leave ‘em be,” Dugan calls from where he’s lounging on the couch with Dernier’s legs in his lap. “We can tell them about the top/bottom poll next time we see them.”

Steve chokes a little. “The _what_?”

Bucky laughs so hard he can hardly breathe before he manages to steer Steve out the door. 

✪✪✪

Sam joins the two of them on the porch, and as Bucky’s mirth fades, he gives Sam a real hug for the first time in their entire friendship. No manly-handshake-back-slapping about it.

“Thank you for hosting this,” Bucky says. “It’s really amazing to see them again.”

Sam shrugs as they pull back. “It’s no big deal. The Howling Commandos are notorious; at this point, half of it was just me wanting to see them for myself.”

“For real, though. Thank you.”  
Sam smiles, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t thank me. The whole thing only came together because of your boyfriend. Thank him.”

“Oh, I will,” Bucky says, turning toward Steve with a wicked smile.

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Sam takes a step back toward the door. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Barnes. Rogers, I’ll catch you later.”

“Goodnight, Sam,” Steve says, amused, and Sam mock-salutes both of them before heading back inside.

“I have a lot to say but it’s freezing outside,” Bucky begins. “Should we go home first?”

✪✪✪

When they are warm and situated in Steve’s apartment, Steve brewing them both cups of tea, Bucky slides his hands around Steve’s waist and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Stevie,” he says fiercely. “I don’t know what else to say. Seeing the Commandos again means so much to me. You didn’t have to do this. I love you. Thank you.”

Steve’s arms wrap around him, his body warm and solid against Bucky’s. “I know how much you missed them. They missed you too. I think they may have actually shown it a little today, too.”

Bucky laughs against Steve’s shoulder, the sound coming out a little more wet than usual. The come-down from seeing his friends for the first time in a year, especially after not knowing how many of them survived, is hitting him — not to mention how much he loves his stupid thoughtful boyfriend.

Steve just rubs absentminded circles against his shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s temple.

“Merry Christmas, Buck. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, Stevie. You’ve really fucked me for what to get _you_ for a gift now.”

Steve tosses his head back and laughs, loud and true, the kind of laugh that echoes around the room and bounces back at them. “Your presence in my life is gift enough,” Steve says, the exact answer Bucky expects, and Bucky bites at his ear in retaliation.

It doesn’t take long for them to be enjoying the gift of each other’s bodies after that.

✪✪✪

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it!
> 
> rounded it out with a letter in the last chapter and the commandos in the epilogue. in case you couldn't tell, i love me some circular ideas.
> 
> thank you so very much for everyone who stuck with this the whole time! it has been a process to go through it and i've actually really enjoyed it, so i hope to maybe write some more.
> 
> i'm also thinking about writing some of these scenes (and a handful of ones you don't see in this fic) from steve's perspective.... would anyone be interested in those? i love bucky, but i also want to dig into steve's head a bit, too.  
> (find those now at [somebody catch my breath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20060113/chapters/47507821)!)
> 
> either way, i appreciate each and every comment, every kudos, every click even considering reading this. thanks for coming along on this journey with me.
> 
> and hey if y'all are interested in the visuals check out this fic's [pinterest board](https://pinterest.com/birdlaced/fic-i-wanna-be-known-by-you) because i don't art or have a tumblr so that's about all i've got
> 
> UPDATE: since i had some expectation of a proposal for this epilogue, you may be interested to read what happens in [close to me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20502659)...


End file.
